Pseudo Ferocity
by catgirl26
Summary: BV Just a regular day in the life of the Saiyan no Ouji, until he finds himself homeless, and challenged to find success in Human society. Things look hopeless, until the intervention of one Bruce Hoffman, fashion designer in need of male models...
1. Lucky Rock

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the characters featured in the manga or television series. All other characters are mine, hear me? MINE! 

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Author's Note: Oh, the cat came back, the very next day. The cat came back, they thought she was a goner, but the cat came back, she just couldn't stay away….

I very nearly disappeared for a while, but I'm back in action, with a new fic and everything! Hope you enjoy it, and ssjblackguy, thanks for encouraging me to write this! Now that I've started, I think I'm gonna have some fun! And thank your dad for being such a cool guy! *giggle*

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Special thanks to Vegetababe, ssjblackguy, Kat8125, Bulma Peacecraft, and SilverSun, for beta-ing!

Pseudo Ferocity 

1: Lucky Rock

Vegeta trudged along the street, sullenly kicking a rock down the sidewalk, one hand jammed into the pockets of the loose jeans he wore, the other clutching the handles of a black duffel bag. It was quite the blustery day outside, but the Saiyan was far too engrossed in his thoughts to notice the biting wind pricking at his skin through the hooded sweater he wore. The zipper in the front was only half done, revealing a skintight black T-shirt, plain in design. 

He growled to himself, reflecting on the events of the day as he ambled slowly along, following whatever direction his kicking rock happened to take him. It had been a normal day, for his standards, at least, in the beginning. It was 6:30 in the evening though, and he was officially homeless, with nothing but the clothes he wore, the contents of his bag, and a few bills that had been shoved hastily into his pocket.

As per usual, he had woken with the rise of the sun, long ago having chosen to forego the necessity of an alarm clock, except to wake himself up from what Mrs. Briefs had called 'power naps.' He had showered and dressed quickly in his training gear, heading out to the gravity room for an early morning training session. That was all fine and dandy, and when the computer's lifeless voice told him it was 9:00, he shut down the gravity simulation and made his way across the yards toward the main house, where he knew Ms. Briefs or her daughter would be up preparing breakfast. Most likely Ms. Briefs, he had thought to himself, because it was Saturday, and Bulma liked sleeping in on weekends. 

And he had been right. The table was already piled high with a buffet of various breakfast foods when he entered the kitchen, and he had grunted, as always, in response to his host's bubbly greeting. The meal had tasted good, as was to be expected, because Vegeta knew Ms. Briefs to be a good cook, and nothing else. He had not seen the younger, prettier Briefs woman yet but that was not out of the ordinary. It was common on weekends for him to not see Bulma until late at night, and as she had not woken up yet, and would likely sleep for a few more hours, the Saiyan assumed this to be the case, and went about his daily routine. After breakfast came more training in the gravity room, with the option of skipping lunch or taking a break. When noon had rolled around, he had not been terribly hungry, and had opted to skip lunch and eat a large supper later, which was not unusual for him. The Briefs' knew Vegeta as being incredibly devoted to his training and he often became so engrossed in the activity that he would either forget to eat, or intentionally skip meals so as not to disrupt his training. Even neglecting to sleep for days at a time was not uncommon if he felt he was particularly close to achieving his goal of becoming a Super Saiyan.

Training had been progressing as it normally did until about 5:00, when the rumblings of his stomach had become too loud to ignore. His shoulder was also feeling strained, and he thought it might be a good idea to eat early, and perhaps give himself some time to rest up before training again. So he shut down the gravity simulator once more and ambled languidly into the house, massaging his sore shoulder as he did so. Headed for the kitchen, he had been stopped by Ms. Briefs, who informed him that she would be preparing a large dinner of roast chicken and Taber corn, which happened to be two of his favorite foods. But it would be a while, she had told him, so it would give him time to shower and change for dinner.

Heading up the stairs to the bathroom, Vegeta showered and changed as he was told, not really in the mood to hear Bulma's harping about coming to the dinner table a mess. He had done that once or twice before, and had left with his poor Saiyan ears ringing for a week after her lecture.

At about 5:30, he had padded down the stairs, dressed in a pair of pair of slightly baggy blue jeans, a tight black T-shirt, and a red hooded sweatshirt that he had taken a particular liking to. The kitchen was empty, but wandering into the dining room, he found the table piled high with various containers and trays of food. He had been confused at first, because he distinctly remembered Mrs. Briefs telling him that she was cooking, but he quickly dismissed his suspicions and pulled the clear plastic cover off a tray of sandwiches and dug in. It was entirely possible that she, in her ditzy ways, had left the food in the oven too long or at too high a heat and burnt it all to a crisp. It had happened before, and, not in the mood to start over, she had ordered food from a local restaurant. So he assumed it had happened again.

So around 6:00, Vegeta was wiping his fingers on a napkin, having polished off the last of the feast. He was somewhat surprised that none of his hosts had joined him, but he shrugged it off, thinking that their loss was his gain. If they had joined him, he would have been forced to share. It annoyed him though, that he had actually bothered to shower and change for their stupid human dinner, and they had not even had the courtesy to show up. 

Just as he was pushing back his chair to leave and return to training, the dining room door opened and Bulma strode in. Her eyes widened as she took in the mess on the table, and she sputtered for a moment or two, before letting out the longest, most vulgar string of curses Vegeta had ever heard from a woman's mouth. And they were all directed at his highness, who stood, confused and uncertain of what exactly he had done wrong, as the wrathful little harpy sunk her talons into him.

The Saiyan snorted disdainfully, kicking his rock again, following it across the street and around the corner. How was he to know that all that food had been for Capsule Corp's annual summer picnic that was to take place the next day? How was he to know that it was, as Bulma had put it, "Impossible to replace that much food in such a short amount of time, you big, dumb jackass!"? Hell, he hadn't even known there was a picnic the next day! He was no mind reader, and she had not told him, so what did she expect of him?

She had been absolutely livid, angrier than he had ever seen her, and he had decided that she must have had a bad day, or perhaps she was suffering from that God awful female 'condition' she went through every month. Either way, she was pissed, and screeched at him for a full ten minutes before stomping upstairs, with him in tow. Only out of curiosity did he allow her to drag him along behind her, and the same curiosity made him stand still and watch as she stormed into his room, and began tossing his clothing into a duffel bag.

"GO!" she had screeched, shoving the bag into his arms once it was full. "Get out of here! I am so SICK of you doing whatever you want without thinking about anyone in this household and I cannot stand it any more! Get out of my house, and don't come back until you've learned how to respect your hosts!"

Both bewildered and angered by her tirade, he had hefted the bag over his shoulder and stormed out of the room, the woman right at his heels. "You think I need your 'hospitality,' woman?" he snorted, trying to get in the last word. "You forget that I practically raised myself! I don't need you and your stupid mother to take care of me."

"You couldn't last a day out there by yourself." She had snarled, slamming the door as he stepped outside. Marching down the sidewalk, a voice called out, and he turned to see Mrs. Briefs running toward him. 

"You might need this." The flirty blonde sighed, shoving a wad of bills into his pocket as ebony eyes widened in protest. "Bulma's pretty stressed about some project or another at work, and she's been taking it out on the family for a few days now. She'll cool down in a few days, but until then it's probably best to stay away." She had flitted off in her usual way, back into the house, leaving him to stand out in the wind.

Growling to himself, he turned and strode away, down the sidewalk and onto public property. He wouldn't return to Capsule Corporation any time soon.

Vegeta kicked his rock, following it's skittering path down the sidewalk. He was far away from Capsule Corp by then, but his thoughts still followed the trail of the blue haired beauty and her angry tirade. His mind was made up. He wouldn't go back. Not yet. Not until he could prove to that little wench that he could last in the Human world…no, he would do better than that. He would make her eat those harsh words of hers…yes; he'd do much better than that. He wouldn't go back until he had become a success in her stupid Human world…He would rise to the top and make her rue the day she challenged the Saiyan no Ouji…

But the question was how…He was homeless at the moment, and didn't even know if he had enough cash to stay in a hotel for the night. How was he to rise up by his own merit? It would have been easy to just take over a country or something, but that would hardly prove his competence… It would only bring further disrespect…No; he had to do this her way, so he could prove once and all that he was better than any pathetic human on the planet.

With a light kick of his foot, Vegeta's rock went bumping down the sidewalk again, hitting the brick wall of a building, barely missing the glass doors by a few centimeters. Walking toward where his rock had gone, he caught sight of the sign on the door, and another one in the window nearby. 

"Hoffman Design Firm" the door read.

"Male Models Needed" the window proclaimed.

Vegeta smirked to himself, picking up his rock and stuffing it in his pocket. "You are one lucky rock, you know that?" He chuckled, pulling open one of the doors and stepping inside.

So what do you all think? Can you see Vegeta as a model? Hell, does he even know what a model is? *giggle* This first chapter was a little short…but I'll try and make them longer as I get more into the story!

Oh, and before you ask, I will not be updating this on a weekly basis. I found that with the weekly schedule, I usually ended up putting out crappy chapters, because I didn't have the time or the inspiration to write anything better on short notice. Plus, I ended up putting up chapters late sometimes, and I don't want to disappoint anyone by setting deadlines that I can't meet. So updates will come when chapters are available, though I'll try to update as often as possible.

Check out the **Mp3 of the day**: 'If I Had A Million Dollars" by the Barenaked Ladies. Mostly because of boredom, I've decided to give the spotlight to some of the stranger or little known songs I've grown to like. Sometimes they'll relate to the chapter, sometimes they won't…

I have a tendency to ramble, don't I? *giggle* What starts out as a short little end note turns into a multiple paragraph letter…lol. I'll try to work on that…Anyway, hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Pseudo Ferocity! Please review! It would be very nice of you to do so! 


	2. Hoffman's Design Firm

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

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Author's Notes: Okay, first off, I just wanted to say sorry for taking so long!!! I meant to have this chapter up sooner, but it went through so many revisions before it was edited by my wonderful beta team, and then another major overhaul and second editing, again, by the beta team, who I am eternally grateful for! 

And wow!!! Thank you guys for all the great reviews!! I feel special…lol. Actually, I was pretty worried about what people would think of this fic, so I was actually expecting more people to be unsure about whether or not they liked it. And to those of you who did report mixed feelings, thanks for being honest! I'll try to win you over yet!! *giggle*

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Special thanks to ssjblackguy, Kat8125, and SilverSun, for beta-ing!

Pseudo Ferocity

2: Hoffman's Design Firm

Bells jangled against each other as Vegeta opened the door, stepping inside the warm building. He looked around, observing his reflection in the polished marble floor with a hint of curiosity. Outside, the building looked like any other on the street, sort of small, slightly unkempt, but inside it was like a…a…like…like something with polished marble floors and potted ferns, carrying a definite hint of sophistication. Not quite a palace, but definitely not what he had expected.

The bells jangled again as a gust of wind blew in the door, and Vegeta turned, quickly shutting the door, tired of the infernal noise. Mrs. Briefs had put bells on the doors during a holiday she referred to as 'Christmas' and they had nearly driven him insane. Once the bells stopped though, that uncomfortable silence settled again, and Vegeta looked around cautiously, feeling like an intruder in a place he shouldn't have been.

Stepping off the small square of carpet by the door, the Saiyan began exploring, his sneakers squeaking on the floor as he did so. There was a desk, presumably for a receptionist, but no one was there at the moment, and a few doors, leading off to Kami knows where, and a big black leather sofa. Taking one last look around, Vegeta made a beeline for the comfortable looking piece of furniture, plopping down into the soft cushions. He had been walking for at least an hour, and his feet were beginning to grow sore. It would be good to sit for a moment or two. A few magazines sat on a glass coffee table nearby, and he picked one up, leafing through it in his boredom.

The glossy pages were covered with what Bulma would have called 'The Beautiful People,' and despite himself, Vegeta had to admit that they, even through silent photographs, carried a certain aura of splendor about them that drew even the cold Saiyan no Ouji to look twice. Even so, the great majority of them were no suited to his picky tastes, looking somewhat thin and almost unhealthy in some cases. There were a few that he seriously wondered about; not believing that such thin limbs could support the weight of a body. The men, for the most part, were well built enough, but still to thin to be of any use in a fight or situation where any sort of physical prowess was required.

But Vegeta was a strange judge of things, for he did not see through the eyes of a human, but rather, a Saiyan who was a hearty believer in 'survival of the fittest.' The girls in the magazine…they reminded him of things he would rather not think about. Thin and malnourished, with no fighting power whatsoever, he almost pitied them, like he had pitied the poor nameless girls, so long ago, before the sentiment had been beaten out of him.

"These women hardly even have breasts…" he snorted to himself, eyeing their figures with a scrutinous eye. He supposed that may be attractive to some, but obviously, whoever had taken these pictures was not terribly fond of the curvaceous, slightly fleshy female figure Vegeta was attracted to. All embarrassments and dignified protests aside, deep down Vegeta was a born and bred breast man. They were something not included in his own anatomy, and quite frankly, the rounded, supple mounds of flesh fascinated him…that, and they were fun to play with. Amply bosomed women were something he had not seen much of in his time. Saiyan females, as far as he could remember, were not very well endowed compared to some of the Human females he had seen. But then, of course, as a mere child of five, he had never really paid attention to the size of any of the few women he knew. 

Most of the women in Frieza's army had not been very large up top either, as the vast majority were fighters, and as a result, were masculine, hardened with layers of rippling muscles rather than sporting the soft feminine curves genetics dictated they should have had. During purging missions, he was sure there must have been some curvy females, but much of the time he was too consumed with a blood lust to feel anything else other than the desire to bathe his hands in blood. Man, woman, child…it hadn't mattered. 

Of course, Frieza had kept a harem of women for the use of only his most prized soldiers, and Vegeta had been offered the use of the poor souls on several occasions. With a shudder, he remembered the first time he had actually taken the tyrant up on his offer. The Saiyan no Ouji had been young, roughly thirteen or fourteen Earth years, and was developing at the rapid rate his kind was prone to. With the new developments in his body, the hormones in his system were severely unbalanced, and like all boys going through such a stage, he was curious about females, what it was like to be with one…sex in general was a fascinating idea.

The actual experience though, had turned out to be the most horrifying encounter of his entire life, and he had left the harem afterward feeling nauseous, and wondering to himself how any of the soldiers could possibly stomach such an ordeal. Nervous, he had been scared easily; intimidated and unsure about everything, the whore who had been assigned to pleasure him, docile and placid as she was, had frightened and disgusted him to the point that he had almost refused use of her. But knowing that word would leak about the 'cowardice of the Saiyan Prince' and fearing humiliation at the hands of Frieza's men, he had swallowed the bile in his throat and forced himself to go through the act of…coupling…with the female. She had been like a doll. Lifeless and quiet in her subservience…like making love to a corpse.

He hadn't been himself for days after, unable to rid his mind of the memories, the horrifying emptiness of the woman's face as he plunged his young flesh into her. He tried to hide it; of course, not wanting anyone to realize the experience had been so traumatic to his young psyche. However, his two closest companions, Nappa and Radditz, seemed to sense something wrong with their Prince, and, while the youngest Saiyan was recovering from his experience, refused use of the harem when offered. Vegeta knew they had understood what happened, and he was grateful for their loyal action. Even though he had treated them roughly at times, though he had killed Nappa with his own hands, deep down he felt a deep sense of respect for the two Saiyan men who had raised him and sacrificed their own pleasure for his sake.

But his self-imposed celibacy hadn't lasted for long. Eventually word spread about the young Saiyan, and nasty rumors about his sexuality and potency had begun to surface. Frieza had begun to mock the young Prince, with cruel taunts, even going so far as to offer him Zarbon for a night; an offer that both parties had vehemently declined. Image had been everything in that army, for if you were neither respected nor feared by your fellow soldiers and superiors, death would not be far, and life itself worse than hell. 

So the young Saiyan no Ouji had swallowed his revulsion, forcing himself to visit the harems again, to do with the pour mindless women what the other soldiers did. To pleasure himself without care of their wellbeing became a standard to him, but still, deep down inside, he knew it was wrong and disgusting to do as he did. And just thinking about it made him cringe.

"Excuse me…sir?" A female voice shocked Vegeta out of his thoughts, and his head snapped up to glare at the young woman standing near the desk. She looked nervously around, obviously intimidated by his hard gaze. He was handsome though, in a way that had caught her off guard when she first set eyes upon him. She had been watching him for a few minutes before finally speaking up, unable to bear the pained expression on the strange, angular face. "Are you here…here about the modeling job?" Vegeta nodded once, in the sharp military way he had grown with. "Follow me then. Mr. Hoffman will see you now."

Vegeta snapped the glossy magazine shut, dropping it on the table with a soft plop, and stood up to follow the young secretary. She eyed him again, surprised at his small stature. Most model hopefuls were tall and not so heavily built, and she wondered if Bruce Hoffman would turn the quiet, dangerous looking man down. Hoffman was known for his picky taste in models, and she wondered if this one would fit into his mould. One thing was for sure though, if Hoffman turned him down, someone else would hire him. His stature did nothing to detract from his appearance, but rather gave the strange man a certain style and personality that none of the known models in the business possessed. With the right firm, she thought, the stocky little hunk could rise to the top of the modeling world with ease.

"Bridget, do you have Mr. Christian's number handy?" A voice called out from an office around the corner. "I need to get in touch with him as soon as possible! It's important!"

"I'll get it for you in a moment Mr. Hoffman, but there's a man here about the opening for a new model." The young woman at Vegeta's side called back, and he looked over at her from the corner of his eye. Bridget…the name didn't fit her at all.

"Oooh!" a squeal from the office. "Send him in!"

"This way Mr…Uhm…"  


"Vegeta." The Saiyan said simply, following her around the corner. "Just Vegeta." She led him though a door to reveal a man, not much older than Vegeta's own twenty-eight years, sitting at a desk, shuffling through a pile of 8x10 photographs.

"Oh my…you certainly aren't like most models I do business with." Bruce Hoffman blurted out, his tight leather pants squeaking as he stood to shake the Saiyan's hand. "I don't know if I have any openings for you…"

Vegeta's eyebrow raised in questioning of the man's statement, a gesture that only served to enforce Bridget's opinion on the matter. "Mr. Hoffman," she blurted out, a pleading tone in her voice. "Imagine him in your new collection!"

"Him? In _"Leather and Lace?" _Bridget, I don't know." Bruce stroked the blonde stubble on his chin skeptically, looking Vegeta up and down.

"I'm not a piece of livestock." The Saiyan snapped, irritated by the man's judging gaze. 

"You do have an attitude, don't you?" Bruce giggled, mulling the matter over in his head. 

"Sir, just imagine what a stir such an unconventional model will create! People will be flocking to your shows to see what all the buzz is about! And sir, your _"Leather and Lace"_ collection would look spectacular on his body type!" Bridget pleaded, pulling the other man into a corner. They whispered back and forth for a few minutes, while Vegeta stood silently, pretending that he could not hear their conversation.

"Well I think that's just fantabulous!" Bruce squealed, finally seeing a vision of how good his pants would look, strutting down the runway on such a toned, muscular figure. Bridget smiled too, a small blush spreading across her cheeks as she imagined Vegeta in something less appropriate, like one of the many items from the _"Leather and Lace" _underwear collection.

"So do I have a job or not?" The Saiyan groused, growing impatient.

"Oh, definitely! Be here tomorrow at 3:00 for fittings! Bridget will be working! She'll show you around too!" Bruce nodded enthusiastically, excited at the idea of having such a revolutionary model signed with his agency. 

"If you'll come with me Mr. Vegeta, I'll have you fill out the necessary paperwork, and then you can go." Bridget smiled, ushering him out of the office and back out to the front reception desk, where she pulled opening a filing cabinet and slapped a big pile of papers down on the desk. "Now, if you'll just sign here, here and here…initial there and there, sign again here and here…"

Vegeta walked out of Hoffman's Modeling Agency an hour later, his hand having cramped up ages ago. He had never seen so much paperwork in his life! He would die a happy man if he never had to pick up another pen again! But at least he had a job, and was on his way to a rise in the world…now all he had to do was find a place to stay for the night.

"Okay rock," Vegeta said, pulling the stone from his pocket and placing it on the ground. "You lead the way, and I'll follow."

Hee hee…am I the only one who thinks that's cute? I sure hope not! And yes, _"Leather and Lace"_ is a pretty lame name for a fashion collection…but oh well, I couldn't think of anything better…*giggle* 

And today's **mp3 of the day**…Hrmm…let's go with "Color Me Blood Red" by Malice Mizer. It's pretty nutty, and I guess it kinda takes a certain type of person to like it…*giggle* But I like almost everything…

Oh, and time for a plug!! Go read ChunkyMunky241's DBZ adaptation of Phantom of the Opera! It's called 'The Phantom of the Tournament' and it's really good so far! (I'm desperately hoping that it ends B/V!! *hint hint* *Nudge, nudge* Lol…I know you're reading this ChunkyMunky241!! ) 


	3. Quantum Physics and Rocket Science

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

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Author's Notes: Hey all, sorry this chapter took so long to get out! I meant to have it out sooner, but problems arose, first with my computer, and then a few of my beta readers happened to be on vacation and oi! It was madness!! Lol…it really wasn't…no madness at all…damn.

And big thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far!!! Everyone's invited back to my place for pizza and beer! No wait…I don't even like beer…and even if I did, I'm underage…well crap-diddly. Will you settle for my gratitude??? *giggle*

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Special thanks to ssjblackguy, Kat8125, and SilverSun, for beta-ing!

Pseudo Ferocity

3: Quantum Physics and Rocket Science

It was raining outside, great big fat drops of water falling from the sky, like the clouds were crying. The wind was strong, lashing the tree branches around like whips, as it screamed its sorrow. Inside the Briefs' comfortable home on the Capsule Corporation compound though, it was warm and dry. A crackling fire had been lit in the small library, and Bulma had taken advantage of the cozy room, curling up in one of the overstuffed armchairs to read. 

It was the first time she had been able to relax in nearly two weeks, and curling up in the knitted afghan blanket by the fire was absolute bliss. The miserable weather was a separate entity, prohibited from entering the fantasy world of knights and dragons she was currently engrossed in. The book was one she had read often, about a kidnapped princess and her mysterious knight in shining armor. It was a tale of a love that could never be, a princess and a common soldier. But Bulma loved the ending, when the knight revealed to all that he was the crown prince of a neighboring country…the two would get married and live happily ever after.

It was a good story. Unfortunately, it was only that. 

Bulma sighed, setting the book down on the oak coffee table at her feet, and looked out the window, disturbed by the insistent tapping of a tree branch against the pane of glass. Fairytale worlds were all well and good, but eventually, one had to give up fantasy and live in the real world.

"Bulma, dear!" Mrs. Briefs' shrill voice called from somewhere in the house. "Will you come out to the dining room and help me set the table?"

"Coming Mom!" the young woman called back, pulling herself out of the chair. She stretched languidly, allowing the blanket to fall to the floor at her feet. She debated leaving it there for a moment in her mind, before stooping to pick it up. Folding it neatly, she set it back down on the chair and closed the grates of the fireplace before heading out of the cozy library and down the stairs toward the kitchen.

Stepping out into the hallway, a chilly draft of air hit her and she shivered, wondering where the draft was coming from. It was late spring, but the weather was unusually cool for the time of year, and it irritated her. It was early June, nearly the end of the school year, and that meant summer was coming. The weather seemed to be more fitting of autumn, with cool winds and cloudy skies. 

Pushing open the dining room door, Bulma was almost surprised to see such a small amount of food sitting on the table. But she quickly realized that Vegeta was gone…he had been gone for nearly a week, but it was still a shock to see such a small amount of food being prepared after the enormous quantities he had eaten. On the first day, Mrs. Briefs had forgotten their Saiyan houseguest was no longer around, and as a result, the Briefs' had eaten leftovers for almost a week straight. This was the first fresh meal that had been cooked since his departure.

"He'll be back Bulma. You know he always comes back." Mrs. Briefs smiled comfortingly, seeing the look on her daughter's face. It was strange, but they all missed the cocky, self-assured little prince, even Dr. Briefs, who had been terrified of the surly man, felt a little empty without the strong presence in the house.

"I'm not worried about that jerk." Bulma snapped back, irritated that her feelings could be read so easily. She felt bad about reacting like she had. It was only food, and, as much as she hated to admit she was wrong, he hadn't known about the picnic…Hell, whether or not he ate the food hadn't even made a difference, because the Capsule Corp. picnic had been cancelled due to heavy rain. So really, it was almost a good thing he had eaten the feast, or it would have gone bad.

She was still upset though, more at herself than at him. She had overreacted, and gone so far as to throw him out, not that he didn't deserve a lesson in manners, but he hadn't deserved to be treated so harshly. The worst though, was knowing that he was alone…probably outside in such bad weather with nowhere to go. He would be angry with her, and had likely taken that anger out on several innocent people already. He probably wouldn't come back soon either, unless someone forced or begged him to. He had been quite insulted by her comments, and Bulma knew that in his mind, to come crawling back to Capsule Corporation would be admitting defeat. No, Vegeta would not be coming back any time soon. 

"Bulma…" Mrs. Briefs ventured, unsure of how to approach the subject of Bulma's feelings for the odd little man. It was quite apparent that her daughter held a certain amount of affection for their royal houseguest, but was too stubborn to admit such a thing. Mrs. Briefs wasn't quite sure if Bulma even knew about her own feelings toward the Saiyan. 

"Mom…can we just talk about something else for now? I couldn't care less about Vegeta." The young woman pleaded, setting a plate in the place Vegeta usually sat at dinner. A look from her mother made her realize her mistake, and she snatched the plate up again, a furious blush on her cheeks. 

Muffled footsteps were heard padding down the hallway, and in shuffled Bulma's father, looking unusually disheveled, and slightly puzzled at the expression on his daughter's face as she stalked out of the dining room. "Burajaa, what was that about?" Dr. Briefs asked his wife, who just smiled, giving her husband a peck on the cheek.

"Just some girl stuff." She giggled, setting the last glass down in its place. "Nothing you'd understand."

In the kitchen, Bulma yanked open one of the cupboards, roughly putting the delicate porcelain plate back in its place. How embarrassing…it was like the one time back in the old days, when her mother had walked in on herself and Yamcha making out…But for some reason, the embarrassment was much worse when it had to do with Vegeta.

"What am I so embarrassed about? So what if she knows I'm kinda worried about him. It's not like I'm in love with the bastard or anything. I mean, I would know if I liked him in that way, and I totally do not!" She muttered to herself.

__

Who are you trying to convince? Her brain taunted, _There's no one here but you and me…_

"Shut up." She snapped aloud. "Stupid brain…you don't know anything."

__

No, not at all. Nothing except quantum physics and rocket science.

"I thought I told you to shut up."

"Bulma! Come on back in here! It's time to eat!" Mrs. Briefs called, seating herself at the dark mahogany table. "That girl, she can be so flighty sometimes!" She commented to her husband, who had also seated himself. "She must get it from your side of the family."

Bulma rolled over, looking at the clock on her dresser. 3:20, the glaring red numbers told her, and she groaned. Why was it that whenever she actually needed to sleep, she couldn't? Vegeta was the cause of her insomnia this time. She was worried about the little bastard…for some unknown reason. She had slept earlier, she guessed for only about an hour, but it had been fitful sleep, full of dreams. "This will teach me to read fantasy novels before I go to bed." She moaned, remembering some of the fuzzy details of her dream.

She had been a princess, captured by an evil lord. He wanted to marry her, but she refused so he locked her away in a dungeon until she changed her mind. But that would never happen. Her heart had belonged to another; a man on a gleaming black stallion, hidden within a suit of shiny silver armor. She could not recall the exact details of his face, but he had been handsome, with sharp, regal features and challenging eyes, daring her not to love him. Strong and muscular, warm and gentle…she remembered what it had felt like to be held in his arms, and she shivered beneath her covers, even though the room was warm. Even the center of the earth would feel cold without his arms around her.

Rolling over, she tried to block the thoughts from her mind, but to no avail. Each time she tried to think of something else, the knight would come galloping by and scoop her up into his lap. He would hold her there, not that she made an attempt to move, as his warm hands, callused from years of dragon-slaying and sword-fighting, ran over her body, scorching her through the fabric of her dress.

Good Kami, how she wished he were real. The feelings she was experiencing, so undeniable sincere, would easily have fooled her if she had not known the man was her own brainchild. He seemed so familiar though, like she already knew him. His subtle, masculine scent lingered in her nostrils, sending her into a confusing whirl of déjà vu. She _knew_ she had smelled that exact fragrance before…but where? Where on Earth did she remember it from?

Rolling to the other side of her bed, she yanked open the top drawer of her nightstand, pulling out a coiled notebook and a pen. Flipping to a fresh page, she clicked on the reading lamp hooked to her headboard, and poised her pen over the paper, chewing on the end as she tried to recall the date.

__

June 4th 

It's 3:30 in the morning right now, and I can't sleep. I dreamt for a while earlier, but I woke up about two hours ago and haven't been able to fall back asleep. My dream though, I've had dreams like it before…you know, the good one where I'm a princess, and my one true love comes to save me from an evil lord who intends to make me his bride. Well, it was one of those dreams again, but there was something different. My knight in shining armor, he was familiar to me for some reason. Like I actually know him or something. It was so realistic this time. It was like he was really here in my room with me, holding me in arms strong as steel and warm as my electric blanket…Okay, lame description, I know, but science is my strong suit! Not writing! But anyway, back to my dream…it was so real! It sounds silly, but I can even smell him still…and it's weird. The scent is giving me major déjà vu. I know I've smelled it before, but I can't figure out where! It's driving me insane!

  
Ahh well, I suppose having a true love in my dreams is better than not having one at all, ne?

Bulma Briefs

Sighing, she snapped the hardcover journal closed again and set it back in the drawer along with the pen. She shut the drawer quietly, lost in her own thoughts, still engrossed with the dream. A tapping at the window startled her and she nearly screamed, slapping one hand over her mouth to hold the sound in. She calmed down, seeing a tree branch swaying in the wind, knocking against the side of her house, and occasionally, the window. "Damn wind…it's supposed to be nice outside." She muttered to herself, unable to stop herself from worrying a little about Vegeta. He was probably out there right now, huddled somewhere trying to sleep, or maybe killing some unfortunate soul who tried to mug him…

"Vegeta…" Bulma sighed, watching raindrops splatter against her window, "I'm sorry…you can come home whenever you want to." 

Okay, there's the chapter!! Kinda short, I know, but I can assure you though, that the next chapter will be longer!!! And there is a definate lack of Vegeta, but no fear; he'll be back and sexy as all hell for the next chapter! I'm sure you all noticed I gave Bulma's mom a name too… I normally don't like to because it's hard to find something that fits her personality and stays in with the underwear theme, but typing "Mrs. Briefs" over and over again would have sounded quite bad because of the repetitiveness. So I called her Burajaa, which still doesn't fit great with her personality, but it means 'brassiere' in Japanese. 

****

Mp3 of the Day: Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata." Yes, I know this is not a strange or little known song, but I think this piece is absolutely amazing and everyone should listen to it! *giggle* Plus, the mood of the song strikes me as being sorrowful and tinged with regret, which just happens to fit this chapter perfectly!! So go download it!

And have a spectacular day!!! 


	4. Ares

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

****

Author's Notes: Okay, kitty has some things to talk about! Don't worry, no flames or anything, so you're not in for a rant. Anyway, a few people have voiced concerns over Vegeta's character…and I suppose I'd be a little worried too, if I didn't know what was going to happen…lol. I just wanted to say DON'T WORRY!! Things will change. It's been my plan to shift his attitude more gradually, but I'll try and speed things up for you guys. This chapter you'll see the first major attitude shift! Whee! *giggle*

As for being OOC, I just feel the need to point out that the sex-bomb Vegeta is a fanfic thing. If you watch the show, there's no indication that he's the sex machine we all like to think he is…lol, personally, I like to imagine him as a sex machine too, but I've started this fic out differently, and I'm not giving up on it! I just hope you guys won't give up on me! *sigh* If I were a better writer, I could make you see exactly what I see in my mind…but I'm not, so I guess I'll have to keep explaining things…lol.

Anyway, I know I'm pretty long winded when it comes to things like this, so I'll shut up now and let you guys read the story!!

** __**

Special thanks to, ssjblackguy, Kat8125, Bulma Peacecraft, and SilverSun, for beta-ing!

Pseudo Ferocity

4: Ares

Flicking off the bathroom light, Vegeta padded quietly over to the lumpy, slightly smelly bed he had been sleeping in for the past week. A run-down motel room had been his home for the short time, because he hadn't been paid for his modeling 'services' yet. Of course, he hadn't actually done any real modeling. The day after he was hired, he had been fitted for clothing, poked and prodded and ogled by Bruce and his pet Bridget. Initially, Bridget had not bothered Vegeta, what with her seemingly timid ways, she seemed sweet and somewhat tolerable, for a human.

But the more time she spent around him, the more annoying she got. She stared at him constantly, always finding some way to make physical contact with him. It irritated him, made him uneasy because he didn't quite know how to turn her down. Yelling at her would probably work, but it would also probably get him fired in a heartbeat. He didn't want to be the target of her sexual advances…Hell, even Bruce's advances were more comfortable to deal with! 

He supposed he had to give Bridget credit where deserved though. She had been the one to convince Bruce to hire him, and during the fitting, had convinced the uppity designer that the scars criss-crossing Vegeta's body would be all the more appealing. His job was to portray the dangerous, leather wearing, bad boy, and the scars, she had managed to convince Mr. Hoffman, would add to the menacing look, and set the strange new model even further apart from the conventional modeling world. 

__

"He'll be a star Bruce! And he'll be working for you, which will make you a star!" Bridget insisted, taking Mr. Hoffman aside into a corner, thinking that Vegeta would not be able to hear their conversation.

"But…but all those horrific scars…" Vegeta cringed, his Saiyan hearing picking up every word. "Where do you think he got them?"

"How should I know?" Bridget sighed. "But that's not important Bruce! Look at him in those pants! He looks absolutely gorgeous, and so do they!"

"But the scars…"

"Look at all that muscle tone Bruce, look at that fantastic profile! Chiseled features, olive skin…He looks like a Greek God, for Kami's sake!"

"But Bridget…the scars!" Bruce hissed, a little louder than he had intended.

"So he's Ares, god of war, handsome and cruel! Scarred from battles!"

Bruce looked skeptically over at Vegeta, standing in front of a three-paned mirror, corded, muscular arms crossed over a broad, naked chest. Bridget was right. He did look like a god, the scars even adding to the strange man's sex appeal. And Bruce had to admit, somewhat grudgingly as he was wearing the same style, that he had never seen a pair of pants look so good. 

"If he agrees to model those pants shirtless, he can stay." Bruce conceded, eyeing Vegeta's chiseled, rock hard abdominal. 

Vegeta, needless to say, had agreed. He needed the job and hadn't yet realized just how annoying his new female shadow would be.

The Saiyan crawled into his bed with a yawn, tired after a full day's workout. All of the fitting nonsense had been completed a few days ago, and the actual showing was happening in a few days, so Vegeta hadn't been needed for three days in between, and had taken the opportunity to do some heavy training in a small park nearby. The lightly wooded area had been a perfect place to practice his agility skills, and the sight of a man doing katas on a grassy lawn had not been unusual, as no more than fifty meters away, a daily yoga class had taken place. However, the sight of a man like Vegeta doing katas in only a pair of skintight shorts had been enough to draw a small crowd of young women, who watched him while they pretended to jog. Unfortunately, he had also drawn the attention of one particularly overzealous old lady who had attempted to pinch his rear on several occasions.

He had been taken by surprise at first, by the wily old bat, and had thought it was Mrs. Briefs for a moment, and had been surprised at his disappointment when he realized it wasn't. Rolling over in bed, he thought about what life with the Briefs had been like, and was irritated to realize that he actually missed the three humans. It was especially irritating to realize just how much he missed a certain one of them.

"I really shouldn't miss the bitch…" he muttered to himself, no real malice in the harsh words. "After all, she's the one who threw me out. And she was always yelling and screeching and insulting me…" He trailed off, thinking that she had also been very kind to him. She had always been concerned about his welfare, and even tried to talk to him sometimes. She had tried to be his friend, in a way, and though it had irritated him beyond belief in the beginning, in the final weeks before she kicked him out, he had actually started to feel rather comfortable around her.

Even that was a bad thing though, because he had become a little too comfortable around her. And Vegeta knew that becoming close friends with someone was not a good idea. If his days in Frieza's army had taught him anything, it was that you could never trust anyone but yourself. And sometimes even that wasn't a good idea. 

And especially since the one he was trusting was a woman…a beautiful woman at that…He had been very comfortable around her, enough to become attracted to her in more than a friendly way. But he didn't want to get close to her. Every time he thought of her in an even remotely sexual manner, he was reminded of the other girls he had been with, the harem girls of Frieza's army. And one in particular, the girl he had been with first, always stuck out in his mind. It was the worst of all of them.

Sometimes he had dreams, where he lived the awful event over and over, but sometimes the girl, the nameless thing, her features would begin to shift, her hair would change color in the blink of an eye, a lustrous blue replacing matted, mousy brown. Dull blue irises would stare lifelessly at the ceiling, pale pink lips moving ever so slightly as she drew air in, just enough to live. His body would continue to ravage her, intent only on relieving the straining ache in his groin while his mind screamed to stop, begging and crying inside. 

Vegeta would wake up, ill sometimes, covered in sweat, his whole body shaking as he tried to calm himself. Once, Bulma had wandered in, hearing the sounds of him retching, emptying his stomach into the toilet after reliving a particularly graphic memory, luckily not one of the morphing dreams. She hadn't asked him about it, hadn't pressed to find out why he was ill, but had knelt down beside him, her soft, cool hand rubbing his bare back as he trembled, clutching the rim of the toilet for support. He hadn't even been able to look at her, unable to bear the tender look her eyes conveyed. Instead, he had said her cooking was the fault of his sickness, and she had yelled at him and nearly dunked his head in the toilet, still full of his vomit.

Vegeta growled, suddenly angry as he pulled the covers back over himself. How could she be so cruel? How could she be so kind and caring, to make him trust her, and then turn her back on him? She had carelessly tossed him out into the world to fend for himself…

But he soon found that he couldn't stay angry. How many times had she been there to tend his wounds? To cook him a meal and fix the things he destroyed? And how many times had he callously pushed her away, and insulted her efforts to please him? How many times had he repaid her kindness with cruelty?

Vegeta sighed, knowing he hadn't actually deserved any of her kindness in the first place. Hell, he had known from the beginning, but allowed her to foolishly believe that he could change, that they could be friends. And he had allowed himself to believe that he deserved more. His attraction to her was unacceptable. He had already taken advantage of her kindness and hospitality…it filled him with shame to think about taking advantage of her body as well, just to sate his own urges.

His dreams though…they were growing strange. Sometimes they were different, not cruel and horrific, but rather passionate and pleasurable, filled with the soft cries of female ecstasy. Of course, these dreams left him with a sense of intense embarrassment, to accompany the hardened bulge below his waist, and the perversely sated feeling felt when he awoke.

What the Saiyan Prince did not realize though, was that not all physical relationships were as he thought them to be. Taken from his culture at such a young age, and raised as a warrior, he did not fully understand that not all sex would be as his experiences in Frieza's harem were. Nappa and Radditz had not thought to educate him in such matters, so there had been no one to teach him the beauty behind such an act, or that it could be pleasurable for both partners. He had never experienced anything different to make him think otherwise, though in his time on Earth, he had begun to suspect that there was more to the act of sex than he had previously thought.

The attitude, for example, of Bulma toward her human 'boyfriend' was highly indicative of that theory, seeing as she never seemed terribly repulsed by his advances, more often than not she seemed to welcome them, even reciprocate, in fact. Then there was the older Briefs woman, who had taken the liberty of making several playful sexual advances on him during his stay in her home. And of course, the women in the park had seemed very interested in the possibility of coupling with him, so perhaps there really was more to it than a physical release…

It was something he would have to look in to.

(Didja see it? *giggle* The enlightenment of the Saiyan Prince has begun!!)

***

"Cassandra!" Bruce shouted in dismay, "I told you not to drink milk on the day of a show! You know it makes you bloat! Go to wardrobe and get yourself a bigger size." He ushered the sullen looking model away, searching in all the chaos for his fiery new star. "Oh Vegeta, there you are! Thank god! I was worried you weren't going to show up!"

"Mr. Hoffman! Mr. Hoffman! Reynaldo isn't feeling well!" Bridget emerged out of the chaotic dressing rooms, panting, with one hand on Bruce's arm for support, and the other holding a clipboard. "We'll have to assign the other men to take on extra outfits."

"Are you sure?" Bridget nodded, and the poor designer's perky face fell. "Oh fiddlesticks," he stamped one leather booted foot. "Well, hurry up and inform the guys." As Bridget rushed off into the hubbub again, Bruce turned to Vegeta again, grabbing his arm and leading him to the dressing room where all of his outfits waited. "You would not believe all the stuff that's gone wrong!" he wailed, "My whole show is crashing down around me!"

"Mr. Vegeta, here are the extra outfits you'll have to model." Bridget appeared again, throwing a pile of clothing into the Saiyan's arms before rushing off again. 

Depositing the pile into the change room, the top item caught Vegeta's eye. "What the hell is this?" he asked warily, picking up a strappy little leather thing and holding it up before Bruce's blushing face. 

"It's…well, you see Vegeta, it's a…thong…"

"I'm not wearing this." 

"But—"

"No." 

"Vegeta, please—"

"I said no."

"Fine." Bruce sighed in defeat, taking the article of clothing. He went off, clutching the scrap of leather in one hand, to find Bridget. She'd have to find someone else to wear it…and boy, would she be disappointed with the news.

Vegeta turned and closed the door of his dressing room, sauntering over to the rack of clothing, all numbered and sorted so he would know exactly when to wear each outfit. Grumbling to himself, and knowing it was Bridget's idea to put him in a thong, he pulled outfit number one off the rack. 

Double-checking the lock on the door, he pulled off his sweatshirt and jeans, having already kicked off his sneakers. His boxers went too, and he pulled on the first pair of pants. They were black leather, awfully tight around the buttocks, and looked fairly plain, except that the sides, from top to bottom, were cut out. Along the outer sides of his legs, they were laced together by long silver ropes criss-crossing all the way down, like a shoelace, to tie at the bottom of the leg. A strip of toned olive skin was visible all the way from his hip, where the low-slung pants rested, down, hence the need to take off his underwear. Something told him these pants were meant to be worn commando style.

Scoffing at the impractical design, he sat down and pulled on a pair of black leather boots, with a sort of neo-cowboy style to them. A thick belt was next, and he looped it around his waist, allowing it to rest loosely, at an angle around his hips. Bruce had instructed him not to use the belt loops, and to just allow the soft black leather to mold as it wanted. A pair of gloves came next, black leather, with the fingers cut off. They went up past his wrist a few inches, and were adorned at the edge with small silver studs. Lastly, he picked up a shiny black velvet cowboy hat to hold in his hand as he walked down the runway. Originally, the plan had been to actually wear it…but trying to keep Vegeta's spiky mane tamed under that hat was not a feat anyone was willing to attempt.

Vegeta stood in front of the body length mirror, scowling at his reflection. The pants were tight and hard to move in, and the belt was a useless adornment that served no real purpose. The boots were heavy and constricting around his thick calf muscles, and the gloves would do nothing to protect his fingers. The hat would have done something had he been able to wear it…but his hair was too big so he couldn't. And he wasn't even wearing a shirt.

It was the most impractical outfit in the world…but as he stood, examining himself in the mirror, there was no denying it; he looked _damn_ good.

As he emerged from the dressing room, Bridget latched quickly onto his arm, dragging him off toward the brightly lit makeup tables. "Come on Vegeta, you need your makeup and hair done!"

"Makeup?" Vegeta asked, pulling back. Wasn't makeup that stuff that females wore to make themselves look more appealing? 

"Yeah, stage makeup."

"Oh no you don't!" Bruce appeared from behind a rack of clothing. "Vegeta's not going through hair and makeup. We want the raw appeal." 

The Saiyan let out a small sigh of relief as he yanked his arm from the annoying human female. He thought of the gunk that Bulma plastered her face with every morning; concealer and foundation, lipstick, mascara, and a number of other foul concoctions he didn't want to go near. Hell, he would rather have modeled Bruce's thong in front of the huge crowd seated around the runway than let them put all that crap on him. Luckily, though, they weren't going to make him do either to get paid.

"By the way Vegeta, have I told you that you look absolutely scrumptralescent? Fantalicious?"

"No."

"Well, you look absolutely scrumptalescent! Fantalicious, even!" Bruce laughed, and Vegeta smirked. Even if it was a man complimenting his looks, he enjoyed the fact that someone was praising him. And he had seen enough from the other models to tell that Bruce was always sincere in his comments. This was his show, and he wouldn't send someone out to model his clothing if he didn't think they looked good in it. 

"Sir, Mr. VanDios is out by the stage door." 

"Bridget…Bridget, tell him I can't see him right now. I'm far too busy in here at the moment. I'll talk to him after the show though." Bruce called over his shoulder, then turned back to adjusting Vegeta's belt. "Caleb VanDios." He muttered, by way of explanation. "He's a really good friend of mine, helped me get my design firm off the ground." 

"He's not going to be happy…" Bridget muttered to herself, trotting away, clipboard in hand. 

"Are you done yet?" Vegeta hissed between his teeth, not quite liking Bruce's close proximity. "I am not a child you know. I can dress myself."

"Eh heh, sorry!" The flamboyant designer laughed, toying with the chain around his neck. He turned serious for a moment though, looking down into Vegeta's coal eyes. "Vegeta…you're the most honest person around here…and I need your opinion. The others are all too worried to say what they think," he whispered, conspiratorially, "and they're worried that if they offend me, they'll be out of a job. But I really need to know Vegeta…do you think people will enjoy the show? I'm really worried…my whole career could rest on this one show…"

"Uh…"

"There are tons of important people out there Vegeta!" Bruce wailed, clutching the Saiyan's shoulder. "What if they hate my designs? If I get bad reviews, I'm out on my rumpus room Vegeta!"

Vegeta cringed…comforting upset people was not something he was good at…But looking around, he didn't quite know how to answer, and he had to answer, or he might be facing unemployment again. He didn't really know a lot about fashion; the extent of his knowledge being what he had picked up from Bulma's nagging about spandex bodysuits and all that garbage. She had bought all of his human clothing, so he had a slight idea of what looked good to the backwards race, but nothing he owned was like the clothing Bruce had designed. But he had to say something at least somewhat nice, or he faced the possibility of unemployment.

"Look…" he began, removing the distraught man's hand from his shoulder. "Your designs are impractical, hard to move in, and I don't own a single thing like any of it, and I probably won't be buying anything like it any time soon. But I'm not really big on clothing. Truthfully though," he cringed, realizing that he was actually being somewhat nice, "I kinda like it, though only Kami knows why." He snorted, trying to offset his slight kindness with a bit more of a gruff attitude.

"Oooh! Thank you!!" The designer's eyes began to water. You're the best!!!" He squeezed Vegeta in a quick hug, releasing the startled Saiyan before he had a chance to react, and ran off do finish with the last minute preparations. "Oh and Vegeta, you'd better be getting to the stage doors! You're on in about five minutes!"

Well, there's the end of that chapter!!! Lol, I told you last time that #4 would be all full of sexy Vegeta-ness! *giggle* I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please review!! If you didn't, please review anyway and tell me why so I can do something about it!! (Just don't be mean!)

Oh, and the **mp3 of the day** is: Right Said Fred, "I'm too Sexy" *giggle* I couldn't resist…


	5. Bad Boy

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

****

Author's Notes: School starts tomorrow…blah…Updates might be slow, because I won't have much time to write between work and school…*sigh* Anyway, just wanted to thank everyone for the reviews! You guys are the best!!

*Special thanks to ssjblackguy, Bulma Peacecraft, Kat8125, and Silver Sun for beta-ing*

5: Bad Boy

"Vegeta, you're up!" Bridget signaled to the Saiyan, who took a moment to adjust himself before strutting out from behind the curtained doorway into the brightly lit auditorium. Stopping for a moment to allow the people closest to see the outfit, as he had been instructed to do, he adopted his usual strut and set off down the runway, ignoring the whispered comments he heard floating up from the crowd. 

In reality, he felt pretty stupid, performing a little turn and adopting the 'bad-boy' stance Bruce had offered him extra money to do out on the runway. Black eyes scanning the crowd, he caught the gazes of several women, who giggled and whispered to their friends, like schoolgirls. Vegeta smirked, the malevolent little curl of his lip sending shivers throughout the crowd.

Hearing the beat in the music that signaled his return backstage, Vegeta tossed up his cowboy hat, caught it and turned all in one smooth movement, to strut back the way he had come. Bruce watched the television screen backstage, swooning as Vegeta sent a sexy smirk toward the camera before turning and strutting away. It was a damn good thing he was so good at controlling his arrogant façade, for in reality, embarrassment had engulfed his thoughts. He absolutely could not believe humans actually enjoyed that sort of thing.

"Good God, he's got personality…" Bridget moaned, releasing the breath she had been holding. "He's absolutely breathtaking out there…He's—" 

"Scrumptralescent…" Bruce sighed, his eyes taking on a dreamy look. 

"Oh, there he is! The fashion world's newest star!" Bridget smiled at the passing Saiyan, who ignored her, on the way to his change room.

"Vegeta!" Bruce followed after him, leaving Bridget to signal the models who needed to be out on stage. "Vegeta, you're a natural out there! Are you sure you've never done any modeling work? How 'bout acting? Goodness me, you looked like the devil himself out there! Did you see the crowd when you came out! Oh, they loved you! Oh! I'm excited!!!"

"Yeah, you might want to cover that up." Vegeta quipped, stepping into his stall to change into his next outfit. "I did your stupid little pose out there, so don't forget, you owe me extra." The door slammed in Bruce's face, but the designer, as usual, was too excited to bother being offended by Vegeta's gruff attitude. Besides, it was that same gruff attitude that set him apart from the rest of the modeling world, which suited Bruce just fine.

***

"Did you see him, Ray? He was magnificent!"

"I know Marille, I know. He's perfect for the part. You think he has any acting experience?"

"With looks like that? Probably porn or we would have heard of him." Marille giggled, eyeing the sketch she had drawn. "So what do you think of Hoffman's clothes? I think some of them would be perfect. Think he'd let me take inspiration from some of his designs?"

"Well, why don't we ask after the show?" Ray laughed, folding his program in half. "That way I can corner that model."

"He's awfully strange, to be a model. Normally they're…well…smooth and perfect, blemish free. Taller too."

"Yeah, but look at the effect he had on the crowd. Especially the women." Ray laughed again, playfully elbowing his companion in the ribs. She blushed and pushed his arm away. "But I suppose you're right. A guy like him, you'd think he'd go for something a little more masculine. Think he's gay?"

"Jeez, I sure hope not!" Marille eyed her sketch again. She had come to get inspiration for costuming ideas, and had dragged Ray along so she'd have someone to talk to. "You know, you should thank me for dragging you here. How long have you spent trying to find someone who fits the role? And now, on a leisurely night out, he struts right in front of you. I wish my job was that easy." Marille laughed, tapping her pencil against the thick sketching pad on her lap.

***

Bruce was practically shaking with exhilaration as he greeted a roaring crowd on the runway with his models. The flash of cameras and the bright lights practically blinded him, but he could still hear the cheers and applause. "They liked it Vegeta!" He squealed to the Saiyan at his right side, "They loved it!" Turning, he repeated the words to the models that flanked his other side.

Nearly having to drag their euphoric designer off the runway, the models retreated backstage to change and possibly answer a few questions from reporters. Bruce's show had been a smashing success, and reporters were cramming through the doors to report the event to the fashion world. 

"Bruce, excellent show." A deep voice sounded, stopping Bruce in his tracks, who stopped Vegeta as well. 

"Caleb!" Bruce squealed, "I'm so sorry I couldn't see you earlier, there was so much to do!"

"No problem."

"Oh and you look so nice!" Bruce squealed, admiring his friend's Armani suit, and playfully tugging his silk tie. "Did you come straight from work?" 

"Yeah." Caleb blushed slightly, holding up his leather briefcase. "Busy day, and I didn't have time to go home and change or even drop off my case before coming here." He cast a strange look toward Vegeta, who was standing off to the side a little, not completely sure why Bruce had stopped him.

"Oh, Caleb, this is Vegeta!" The designer explained, seeing his friend's curious look. "And Vegeta, this is Caleb VanDios, the friend I told you about earlier." Bruce pulled Vegeta forward, clutching his upper arm, a gesture that Caleb scowled at.

"Nice to meet you." Caleb said, somewhat icily, extending his hand. Vegeta grunted a greeting, but ignored the outstretched hand, shaking off Bruce's grip as well. He had been touched enough for one day, and was getting a little irritated with all the manhandling that seemed to come along with the job. 

"Oh, Vegeta, I meant to ask you before you go, where have you been staying?" Bruce questioned; not even slightly offended that he had been shaken off.

"Southside Motel."

"Oh no! No! I can't have my star model staying in such a place!" Bruce gasped, appalled. The Southside Motel was a dumpy little place, a popular stomping ground for prostitutes and drug lords.

"Only place I could afford. We both know I'm not modeling because I enjoy it." The prince snapped back, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared up at the designer.

"Caleb will give you a place to stay! A nice place!"

"What?" Bruce's friend sounded appalled at the suggestion.

"Caleb, you own that big apartment complex downtown, right?" Caleb nodded. "Well, just give Vegeta a place to stay for a little while until he can afford to pay rent! Oh! I know! He can live in that empty apartment two doors down from me! Then, since you live right across the hall, we can all hang out! It'll be so fun!"

"Bruce…I don't know."

"Please? Pretty, pretty please?" Bruce begged, giving his friend the puppy eyes.

"I…oh fine. He can stay, but until he's a paying tenant, I'm holding you responsible for his actions." Caleb scowled, poking Bruce in the chest. Glaring at the two men, both shorter than himself, he stalked away.

"Don't mind him. He gets pouty sometimes. But once he gets used to you, he'll be fine. Oh! If you'll excuse me, I've got to go congratulate a few of the others. Eikre! Christian! Great job out there boys!" Bruce scuttled off after two of the other men, his bubbly voice full of glee.

"Wow, Vegeta, you did wonderfully out there." A sultry voice purred, and the Saiyan turned to see Tanaiya, one of Bruce's models, clad in a lacy little negligee, her last outfit of the night. "Especially since I've heard this is your first time modeling," her hand settled on his arm, "it's quite impressive." When Vegeta didn't say anything, she put on her most dazzling smile, slowly sliding her fingers up his muscled biceps and onto his shoulder, then down to trace little patterns on his chest. "You know, if you wanted to take me out for a drink later, I just might say yes."

Tanaiya got the shock of her life when he gave a mirthful little snort, pulled himself away and walked off to the change rooms with a muttered "In your dreams."

Vegeta grumbled to himself, pulling off the last outfit he had been wearing. The tight leather pants were sticking to his legs, due to the extreme heat the stage lights generated, and he was having a rough time pulling them off. They had been hard enough to get on in the first place, but getting them off was proving to be one of the most difficult things he had ever done.

The show had started off with leather outfits of all kinds, then switched to underwear for a while, the _'lace'_ part of the _'Leather and Lace'_ show. Well, the women wore the lace. The men had worn mostly silks, and some synthetic materials. Either way, it was a bit of relief for Vegeta, who was beginning to get hot and cranky in the heat of the lights and leather clothing. However, at the end they had switched to a combination, and again, he had been forced to struggle with impossibly tight pants.

Trying to locate his own clothing, Vegeta thought about Caleb's Bruce-induced offer of an apartment. It would be much nice than the moldy Southside Motel, that much was certain, but did he want to be indebted to the human called Caleb? Not really, but in all actuality, he didn't have much of a choice; the nightly fee of the hotel, while not terribly expensive for one night, was piling up. He wouldn't be able to save much money for himself living in the motel at all. Besides that, the prostitutes were starting to get pushy, calling out to him in their gravelly voices to come on what they described as a 'wild ride to the heights of pleasure.' A couple of them had gone so far as to offer him a night for free, probably hoping to rob him or something afterward. And the drug pushers were getting in his face as well, challenging his right to stay at their stomping ground. They wanted the rooms free for the sleaze-bags and addicts.

Caleb's apartment was sounding better and better the more he thought about it…and it wouldn't be too bad once he started paying rent. Then he wouldn't have to worry about repaying any debts, and he would be in a nice place and not have to worry about his temporary home being broken into by drugged up street whores.

He'd take a look.

A knock sounded on the change room door, accompanied by Bruce's excited voice. "Vegeta! Vegeta! Hurry up! There's someone out here who wants to speak to you!"

Growling to himself about stupid humans, Vegeta pulled on his jeans and a white Capsule Corp. T-shirt that Bulma had given him. He stifled a laugh, remembering why she had given it to him…She had been doing one of her many presentations at high schools and universities, recruiting possible workers. She had made him come and help her unload her projector and screens for the presentation, giving him the shirt so people would think he was an employee. Basically, he had been eye candy for the females in the audience, a sort of 'look who you could be working with' display to entice women to work at the company. Bulma herself had been enough for the men…resumes had been piling in since.

Thinking back, he didn't really blame those kids…she had been wearing a very tight blouse, a very short skirt and spike heels; more than enough to make any man drool…except himself, of course. Although, he could not deny that he had had a hard time keeping his eyes off of her. Of course, the same could be said of her reaction to him. He didn't quite know why she had kept stealing glances at him, as she had seen him in nothing more than a pair of biker shorts and sneakers. Perhaps fully clothed men turned her on more than half naked ones…or perhaps she was merely surprised that he had agreed to help her. Of course, he had agreed only on the condition that she give him a full body massage to ease the 'strain' lifting all her equipment would create. The speed at which she had agreed to his condition had intrigued him greatly.

Despite his cranky mood, Vegeta couldn't help but smile at the memory. He was almost starting to miss the little human female…almost.

Opening the door, Vegeta stepped out to see Bruce talking to a young woman, while an older, middle aged man stood nearby. "Ahh, Vegeta," the man stepped toward him. "My name is Ray Hampton, and this lovely young lady is Marille Goldstern."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Marille smiled politely. Vegeta grunted a response, and tilted his head in a quick, curt nod.

Ray, seeing that Vegeta would say no more, continued on with his business. "Have you ever heard of Agrolica Studios?"

"No." Vegeta said simply. He didn't pay attention too much that didn't concern fighting or training, and certainly hadn't heard of the famous movie studio.

"Oh…well, uh…Well, we make movies." Ray stuttered, somewhat awkwardly in his surprise. Where had this guy been, if he'd never heard of one of the most famous movie studios in the world? "Anyway, Marille here is working as a costume designer for our latest endeavor, and I'm casting director. And I couldn't help noticing that you'd be perfect for the lead role. Is there any chance that you have some acting experience?"

"Not conventionally, no." The prince replied, thinking of all the 'acting' he had done as a child and young teen to save his hide in Frieza's army. 

"Well, even so, I'd like you to come down for an audition, if you're interested." Ray beamed, handing Vegeta a business card. "Call me when you've got a moment, and we can make arrangements."

"I'll think about it." He shrugged, stuffing the card in his pocket without even looking at it. Of course, inside he was almost excited. Of course he knew what kind of opportunities being in a movie could provide for his cause! He was wise enough, however, that it would not do to seem too excited and available for a job. The more these people thought he wasn't interested, the more they would be willing to pay to get him to agree. Of course, he could not feign complete disinterest, or they would move on and find someone else; but the tone in Ray's voice told him that would not happen soon. Vegeta smirked to himself, well pleased with the way things were going. He would be famous in no time, rich and well known, and most importantly, successful. That would teach the little blue-haired human to challenge him!

"Well…please do." Ray's smile faltered as he and Marille said goodbye, a little disconcerted by the strange man. A strange sort of aura seemed to surround him, drawing a person in and pushing them away at the same time. But hell, if Ray thought Vegeta was perfect for the part from far away, there was no describing how sure he was about the strange man after being close to him.

Oh ho ho! Vegeta's moving on up in the world. Can you guys see him as a movie star? *giggle* Wait'll you see what part he'll be playing! Lol, anyway it's easier than imagining him as a model! So anyway, I hope you liked that chapter! If you'd like to be on the mailing list to receive chapter updates, either email my hotmail address telling me so, and I'll send you an invitation to my topica list, or send a blank email to: cat_girl_26-subscribe@topica.com Just don't send regular emails to this address, because I won't see them! If you wanna chat, my hotmail address is posted in my author profile! That said, please remember to review!!

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Mp3 of the Day: "Super Sex World" by One Ton. I saw this song on the Much Music countdown the other day, and I just had to download it…*giggle* It's a very upbeat funky kinda song…I don't know, you might like it, you might not! 


	6. Motives

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

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Author's Notes: Hey all, lots of controversy with FFN lately, ne? Anyway, because I've already started, I decided I'd keep posting this fic here, and when the lemon comes, I'll edit it for here, and post the full blown NC-17 version on mediaminer or something like that. 

*Special thanks to ssjblackguy, Bulma Peacecraft, Kat8125, and Silver Sun for beta-ing*

6: Motives

"And this is the bathroom, complete with two person jacuzzi tub!" Bruce clapped his hands together, excitedly, as he led Vegeta out the door again, "The master bedroom is just across the hall right here, and there's another smaller bedroom through that door."

Vegeta nodded his head, warming up to the prospect of living in the nice, clean apartment as Bruce gave him the 'grand tour' of the place. Caleb stood nearby, looking sullen with a slight pout on his face. 

"And if you keep working for me, along with picking up some other jobs, maybe for calendars and ads and stuff, you'll have no problem affording this place! In fact, I can set you up for a meeting with a good friend of mine who works as an agent. She's got a knack for finding the good jobs, and if you stick with her, she'll have you rolling in the dough in no time! How's Saturday? You can take her to lunch! I'll call her right away!" Bruce rambled excitedly, not even pausing to see whether or not his new friend agreed.

Caleb couldn't help but to smile, and hid a smirk behind his hand as he beheld the flabbergasted Saiyan. It took a certain type to keep up with Bruce, and though he was jealous of the attention his friend lavished upon the strange man, it would be interesting to see how the dark stranger dealt with the bubbly designer. 

"Oh, and we should go furniture shopping, shouldn't we? If you've been staying in a dump like the Southside Motel, I'm betting you don't own any furniture. Caleb, you've got something Vegeta can borrow, don't you?"

"Well…I suppose I—"

"No, I'll be fine. I'll see to finding myself some furniture once I start payments." Vegeta said gruffly, cutting Caleb off. He didn't want to accept any more favors, even if the prospect of sleeping on a good quality mattress was inviting. He would already be quite indebted to the quiet Caleb, and Vegeta had known for a long time that it was never wise to allow yourself to be put in a position where favors were owed to practical strangers. He had accepted the apartment only because of Bruce's prodding; consoling himself with the fact that he would pay proper rent once he was able.

Of course, he had lived in the Briefs' home rent free, with food and everything he needed provided…but that had been a different situation. Bulma had invited him , and he had really only accepted because he had nowhere else to go, and did not fully understand the workings of Earth society. He had considered not killing any of her friends or family as payment enough, and went about his way. As time went on, his payment was the prospect of saving their lives, and the entire Earth, from the androids, which was a fair price in his mind. 

But aside from that, a small part of Vegeta's mind acknowledged the fact that he had actually enjoyed, to a certain extent, living with the Briefs, and probably would have stayed whether he was providing them with some service or another. There was something about the strange family that eased his mind and allowed him to relax a little. No matter how rude he had been, they had accepted his behavior, and dare say, wanted him to remain living with them. Even Bulma, who had been the one to kick him out, was probably missing him.

Caleb VanDios though, was not Bulma or one of her parents, and Vegeta did not relish the idea of being indebted to him.

"But Vegeta, where will you sleep?"

"The floor will be fine." Vegeta shrugged, "Probably more comfortable than a lumpy motel bed anyway." 

"Fine by me." Caleb put in before Bruce had a chance to voice his opinions. "We should go and let Vegeta settle himself in." He said, putting one hand on the designer's back to steer him out the door. "Utilities are included in the rent, and will be provided until you start payments." He said over his shoulder, to the Saiyan. "We should meet some time when you have a moment, to discuss the situation and make some sort of agreement about when you're to start paying." Caleb dropped the apartment key into Vegeta's palm. "If you lose this, inform me right away so we can get the locks changed."

Vegeta nodded once, gently setting his bag on the floor. "I'm right down the hall in number 1982 Vegeta! Don't hesitate to come by if you need anything!" Bruce called out as the door closed, and Vegeta shook his head slowly, the corner of his lip curled up in amusement.

Slowly, the Saiyan looked around apartment number 1985, his new home, for the time being. It was very empty, with no furnishings at all, aside from the ugly lace curtains the previous tenants had left behind. He would need to go out and buy some necessities, like toothpaste and toilet paper. Looking at the shiny hardwood floor, he added a pillow and blanket to his list, along with soap, shampoo, and food.

Pocketing his key, Vegeta pulled out his wallet, wondering how much money he had left. Mrs. Briefs had not been stingy the day he left, stuffing over two thousand dollars worth of bills into his pocket, and because he had been careful about spending, he still had a great deal of money left over. Enough to hold him over for a few more days until the paycheck from Bruce's show arrived. And it would be big, he had been assured, seeing as how the show was such a success.

A small rectangular card fell out of the open wallet, and, stooping to pick up the business card, Vegeta remembered Ray's offer. An audition, to be in a movie…actors made a lot of money, didn't they? And they were famous and _successful_. Becoming an actor would show Bulma just how capable he was, wouldn't it?

Vegeta smirked, fingering the raised lettering on the card. He would call this Ray and set up an audition. He would make his way to the top in no time.

"But first thing's first…groceries." He muttered, bringing one hand to his grumbling stomach. He grabbed his red hoodie and pulled it on over his head, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket. Leaving the apartment, he locked the door and headed for the elevator. His new place was on the very top floor of the huge apartment complex, and he had a long way to go to the bottom floor. Luckily though, no one else was in the elevator, and no one tried to get on during his descent. It was dinnertime and most people were probably eating.

Bruce had pointed out a small grocery store on the way to the building, and Vegeta headed straight for it as he exited the glass double doors onto the noisy street. The rumbling of his stomach was becoming unbearable, not to mention embarrassing. People were staring as they passed, but not for the reasons he thought. "Damn humans…haven't they ever seen a hungry person before?" He muttered to himself, pushing past a crowd of people as he crossed the street.

Pushing open the door to the small grocery store, he was greeted by the kindly face of an older lady, who smiled and said hello to him from her place behind the counter. He nodded in return, following his nose straight toward the meat aisle. Practically drooling over the sight of so much meat, he hastily grabbed the biggest whole turkey he could find, hefting the frozen body in his arms and heading off toward the produce aisle. A bushel of bananas, a bag of apples, some oranges, carrots, broccoli, his load was getting hard to carry. 

Groaning to himself, Vegeta set his armload of food carefully down in the middle of the aisle and set off to find the rest of his needs. Milk, bread, butter, soap, shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a number of other things joined his massive pile. The woman leaned over her counter, wondering why the strange man did not use a cart for his purchases.

Once he was satisfied that he had everything he needed, Vegeta began the arduous task of pushing his pile toward the counter, where the kindly old woman was looking on, perplexed at his strange behavior. She hastily began ringing up the items he set on the counter, sensing he was in a bad mood by the look on his face. She didn't want to upset him more by being slow.

Paying quickly for his purchases, Vegeta maneuvered himself toward the door, carrying his multiple bags of groceries. To him, they weren't heavy, but merely awkward to carry because he only had two hands. 

"Sir…" the lady at the counter piped up, just as he was about to walk out the door. "You have so many items…why didn't you just use a cart?" She asked, unable to hold in her curiosity as she gestured toward the row of metal grocery carts. 

Vegeta looked at what she was pointing to, blinking once. Inwardly, he was cursing himself for being so stupid, and feeling quite embarrassed at his silliness. However, outwardly he remained quite calm, refusing to show his embarrassment to the old woman. "Don't question my motives." He snapped, a faint hint of color rising to his olive cheeks as he stalked out of the small grocery store.

Arriving back at his apartment, Vegeta found a small bundle of fabric outside his door, a small note pinned to the top. 

__

I knocked, but you didn't answer so I figured you probably went out. Anyway, I just realized that you probably don't even have a pillow or blanket or anything like that, so you can borrow these for a few days. I left you a few towels too, and a facecloth. Remember, I'm in 1982 so if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask! 

Bruce

Vegeta shrugged, inwardly grateful for the man's thoughtfulness, and set down his groceries to open the door. Depositing his key back in his pocket, he picked up his bags and stepped inside, pushing Bruce's bundle of stuff inside with his foot to avoid making a second trip back out to the door. Inside his apartment, he shut the door with his foot as he set his things down, more than ready to eat.

Heading to the small kitchenette with his food, he scowled, realizing that he didn't even have a pan or pot or anything to cook his dinner in. Nor did he have a place he could safely build a fire without having to worry about burning the building down. 

Scowling to himself, he ripped the plastic off the turkey and powered up slightly, preparing an energy blast in his hand and aimed at the dead bird. Wrinkling his nose, he fired, roasting the thing with the heat from his hand. Once he figured it was thoroughly cooked, he ripped a chunk of steaming meat off and stuffed it in his mouth, grimacing at the taste ki roasting had left behind. It wasn't terribly horrible, but distasteful enough to deter him from cooking things with his energy unless absolutely necessary. 

As he ate, Vegeta supposed he could have eaten the bird raw, but it had probably been frozen solid and he didn't relish the idea of eating turkey popsicles for dinner. And besides that, raw meat was best fresh from the kill, when it was still bloody and warm. After it cooled down or froze like the turkey had, it was no good.

Finishing his meal, the Saiyan stretched and gathered up the trash, the bones and inedible packaging, and put it into one of the plastic bags he had carried his groceries home in, setting it aside for later disposal. There was a garbage chute at the end of the hall, so he would toss it down later. At the moment, however, he was in the mood for a hot shower, feeling a bit lethargic after eating the huge dinner. 

Digging through his shopping bags, Vegeta grabbed his new soap, shampoo and conditioner, along with one of the towels Bruce had leant him, and padded into the bathroom, stripping as he went. By the time he reached the door, all he had on were his boxers, having left a trail of clothing down the hall from the main room. He shut the door and turned on the water in the shower, waiting for it to get warm, when he remembered what Bruce had said about the 'jacuzzi tub.' It was separate from the small shower stall, a big white basin, built for two people to fit comfortably. Which meant it would be nice and roomy with just one. 

Shutting off the shower, Vegeta turned the on the tap in the bath, preparing himself for a good soak. While he waited for the tub to fill, he fiddled with the little nozzles and switches, curious to find out what they did. He was quite intrigued as to why having a bubbling bathtub would be such a special treat, but soon realized as he stepped in and sat down, allowing the jets to wash over his tense muscles. 

Closing his eyes, he sighed and leant back, sinking down so that only his head was above the water. He would just relax for a little while before washing up…

Two hours later, Vegeta drug himself out of the tub, shivering as the now-cold water droplets clung to his skin. He wrapped himself up in the fluffy green towel Bruce had provided, vigorously rubbing his skin dry. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he made his way back to the main room, where his bag was, and dug through it, pulling out a fresh pair of boxers, and a comb. He slipped the boxers on and pulled the towel off, using it to rub his head, ridding the thick Saiyan hair of much of the trapped water before he ran the comb through to untangle his wild mane. 

About to put the comb back in the bag, Vegeta stopped himself, reminded that the apartment was his home for the moment, and was not some sleazy motel that he would be moving on from in a matter of hours. "About time I unpack…" he muttered to himself, reaching in and grabbing a fistful of clothing. He wasn't even sure what Bulma had packed for him, and decided it would be a good time to check.

There was nothing extraordinary about what he found, a few t-shirts, a couple pairs of jeans, and a few sweaters. She had been kind enough to stuff his training shorts and tank tops in as well, but he had already known that. 

"Huh? What's this?" He asked himself, coming across a stiff piece of paper. Pulling it out, he saw it was a picture. "It must be Bulma's…" The bag wasn't actually his…it was hers, used for travelling and what not, so he figured that she must have forgot to take it out after her most recent trip. She had been so hasty in packing him up to leave, she probably hadn't realized the bag she was using wasn't completely empty.

Flipping the picture over, he scowled at the image of Yamcha's smiling face, his arm casually slung over Bulma's shoulder. She was smiling too, snuggled up to him as they lay on a hammock. Vegeta recognized it as the one in the front yard, slung between two birch trees. He had often rested there, after harsh training sessions, before going into the house. He didn't want the Briefs to see how weak he was sometimes, and the big white hammock was a comfortable place to rest and catch his breath before going in. 

Besides that, it provided a beautiful view of the inky night sky, with its twinkling stars and swirling clouds. It was a sight Vegeta found himself easily caught up in. For someone who had spent most of his life travelling through space, he had never really been able to appreciate its beauty so well as he had from the view on the Briefs' hammock. 

His eyes focussed on Bulma's smiling face, the sparkle in her eyes, and the gentle curve of her lips. He swallowed, admitting to himself, not for the first time, that she was very pretty. Then again, he had always thought her to be physically attractive, going so far as to call her gorgeous after seeing her for the first time on Namek.

But gorgeous, he realized, was too overused, too impersonal…too plain. Gorgeous was a word used to describe landscapes, cars, clothing, and people you didn't know. Bulma was much more than gorgeous. Bulma was downright _pretty_. 

And that filthy human scum had his arm around her so casually, not even thinking how ugly he was compared to her. 

A small snarl escaping his throat, Vegeta tore the picture down the center, separating the two. He wasn't satisfied until Yamcha's smiling visage was ripped to shreds, scattered in a hundred tiny pieces on the floor around him.

When his anger was sated, Vegeta sat, still staring at Bulma's pretty face, his eyes searching for something unknown, his mind wondering why it mattered so much to him. Wondering why he was so jealous of Bulma's affection toward the human male. Wondering why, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't tear his eyes from the picture.

Growling viciously, his hands tore at the picture, ripping it too, into even smaller pieces than he had done with Yamcha's. He couldn't fantasize about her like that…he wouldn't. 

But Kami help him, Kami curse him, he wanted her. And he hated himself for it.

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Mp3 of the day: 'Save Yourself' by Stabbing Westward. Oooh, this is a really good song. I like it a lot! Download! I command thee! *giggle* Seriously, it's worth a listen!

And if you want to be on my update list, either email me and tell me so, or send a BLANK email tocat_girl_26-subscribe@topica.com and you'll automatically be sent a registration email thinger. 

Oh, and everybody should go visit GokusGirl's page, The Lemonade Stand http://lemonade.adultnations.com/index.html and check out her contest! There are some really awesome fics there, so read 'em all and vote for your choice! Lol, you can vote for mine, but ONLY if you think I deserve it! Like I said, I'm up against some very tough competition! So go! Read! Vote! *giggle* Plus, they're all lemons, which is cool considering FFN's recent decision…blah.


	7. Hide It Forever

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

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Author's Notes: Oi, I meant to have this chapter out several days ago…but here's the deal-e-o. I've been really busy for the past week, and have had like, seriously zero time to write! In the 7 days I've spent a total of about an hour on the computer…which isn't a lot when you consider that a lot of that was school-related…lol. I've been pretty stressed and that means serious writer's block…blah. So anyway, this chapter is sort of a development chapter, tying up some loose ends and speeding things through a wee bit. I'll try to stick in some more content next time, but I can't guarantee anything, 'cause my week's shaping up to be quite busy again…*sigh* Anyway, enough of my whining! *giggle* On with the chapter!

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*Special Thanks to Kat8125, ssjblackguy, SilverSun, and Bulma Peacecraft for beta-ing!!!*

Pseudo Ferocity

7: Hide It Forever

Vegeta awoke with a groan, the light from the early morning sun filtering in through the thin lace curtains. _Those,_ he thought with disgust, looking at the frilly fabric,_ have got to go._ Sitting up, he grabbed his watch from its place on the floor beside his pillow, and sighed, seeing the time. 5:30 am. 

"Damn it, overslept by half an hour." He grumbled to himself, pushing off the blanket and standing to stretch his muscles. The floor really was not comfortable, but he had to admit that it had been better than Southside Motel's lumpy beds. It had been nearly a week anyway, since he moved in, and he was quickly getting used to the hardwood floor. 

By the time he had showered and changed, it was 6:00, and Vegeta was itching to begin his workout. The sun had come up already, and he felt lazy for having slept in. After all, since he had to make his own living now, he wouldn't be able to train as much as he had before, so it was imperative to grasp every free moment and make it count for something. 

His week had been a busy one, what with getting settled in to his new apartment and lifestyle. Trying to cash his paycheck from Bruce's show had been an ordeal in itself, as the twit teller had insisted he open a bank account before she could give him his money. And shopping for the necessities of living had been a nightmare, with the ever excitable Bruce running from shop to shop, squealing and making up words when he couldn't think of a good one to describe what he was feeling. 

And the snooty, sullen Caleb had tagged along as well, hating to leave the model and designer alone together. It hadn't really bothered Vegeta at the time, because Caleb's presence seemed to calm the exuberant Bruce, which saved the Saiyan the trouble of having to disembowel his boss. 

The apartment had yet to be furnished though, as his budget for the moment allowed only the necessities, like pots for cooking and plates to eat off of. A cell phone had been purchased as well, at the insistence of his new agent. 

Vegeta sat on the floor, tying his sneakers, as he thought about the effervescent woman who would be finding him work. Shelly Garris-Hoderpesenburgh, a bleached blonde in her mid forties, who had a fondness for garish costume jewelry and blue eye shadow. All eccentricities aside though, she was intelligent and good at her job. He had signed with her only two days ago, and already he was scheduled for three magazine ads and a calendar job. But best of all, she was a mother of three, and very happily married to Mr. Hoderpesenburgh, which meant that she didn't hit on him, a fact that he was extremely grateful for.

Grabbing his cell phone and keys, Vegeta stepped out the door, almost running smack dab into Caleb, who was just coming out for his morning walk. The businessman was not the outdoorsy type, being a bad allergy sufferer, and preferred a good walk around his apartment to one outside in the pollen-filled air. 

"Where are you off to so early?" He questioned, never having been awake to see Vegeta leave before, as the Saiyan was normally out and about around 5:30. 

"Park. Working out." 

"Ahh, out in the shade of the trees, I take it?" Caleb shuddered, thinking off all the things that would make him sneeze out there. 

"Hn." Vegeta nodded, his back turned as he double-checked the lock on his door.

"Well, have a good time. And watch out for those old ladies." The businessman snickered, having heard from Bruce about Vegeta's problem with butt-pinching old bitties.

"Shut up, VanDios. At least I'm not afraid of some measly dust balls." Vegeta grumbled, stalking away. Caleb let out a tiny chuckle, against his better judgement. Vegeta, he supposed, wasn't a bad guy, just a little gruff. Hell, if it hadn't been for the situation with Bruce, he figured they could easily have been friends…or as close to that as Vegeta would get. 

"Maybe even more than that," he muttered quietly to himself, watching the confident sway of the Saiyan's hips as he swaggered down the hall toward the elevator. 

But no, he had Bruce to think about. Bruce Hoffman, whom he had longed to have for so long, ever since they had met. And now, when he was so close to finally capturing the eccentric designer's heart, he wasn't about to let some gruff, new-age model get in his way. 

Scowling, he looked down at his watch, realizing that he didn't have time to contemplate his love life…or lack thereof. He had a very important meeting to prepare for. 

Vegeta took a deep breath, kicking out with his right foot as he began a kata to warm up his muscles before getting into the heavy-duty training. He would have to hurry himself more than usual, as he didn't have the full day to train. After signing on with Shelly, she had taken it upon herself to make arrangements with Ray for an audition time, which happened to be in about 6 hours. He had 5 hours to train, and an hour to get ready and get to the studio where he would be auditioning. 

***

"Ms. Briefs, your 11:30 appointment has arrived to discuss the lease of lot #56. Shall I send him in?" 

"Oh, uh, yeah, give me about five minutes." Bulma said, quickly jumping out of her chair to fix her hair and makeup. She had fallen asleep at her desk again, for the third time that week. Sleep wasn't coming easily to her, and she had spent most of her nights lying awake, thinking about Vegeta. She was worried about him, silly as she knew it was to worry about a Saiyan. But the fact that he had been gone for so long without any trace worried her. 

It was really too bad though, that Bulma was not an avid follower of the fashion world, or she would have seen his picture plastered all over the place.

Her five minutes up, Bulma scooted back to her desk, sitting in her chair and shuffling some papers as her appointment was shown in, to make it look like she was busy, instead of sleeping. "Good morning," she greeted the handsome blonde man. "How are things, Mr. VanDios?"

"Call me Caleb, Bulma." He smiled good-naturedly at her, "And things are going good."

"Alright, Caleb." She smiled back, "And how's Bruce? How'd his show go?"

"He's…good." Caleb forced a smile; "Rave reviews from all the important critics."

"You don't sound too happy for him." Bulma prodded, her curiosity piqued by the sullen note in his voice and the insincerity of his smile.

"Oh, I am…it's just…well…" Caleb sighed, looking around the room. He had known Bulma a long time, as their parents had been close friends when the two were growing up. He was only a few years older than she was, and they had spent a lot of time playing together as children. When they became old enough to work in their parents' respective companies, their close friendship had become a basis for a strong business relationship. In short, Caleb trusted her implicitly, and had never felt uncomfortable talking with her. In fact, she was the only one who knew he was gay. He hadn't ever told his parents or any other friends. Even Bruce was unaware that his best friend was in love with him. 

"Well what? Has something happened?" Bulma leaned across her desk, fearing the worst.

"There's…there's this new model…and…"

"Oh, Caleb…"

"I'm worried that Bruce might be falling for him."

"Oh, Caleb, don't be silly! What could this guy possibly have that you don't?"

"Mystique, wild hair, and the body of a Greek God." Caleb pouted, slumping in his chair. "He's all Bruce talks about! Vegeta this, Vegeta that! I could just—" He stopped his tirade, seeing Bulma's wide-eyed stare.

"Did…did you just say Vegeta?"

"Why, you know the guy?" 

"Is he doing okay? Please tell me he's alright!" 

"He's just fine…living in one of my apartments. Lives just down the hall from me."

"Your place? How the hell's he affording such a nice place? Oh god, don't tell me he threatened you…" she moaned, covering her face with her hands.

"Didn't you hear me? I said he's modeling for Bruce's show. He's also signed on with that batty agent, Shelly Garris-Hoozerdoozerpopolis, or whatever the hell her name is. She's got him a few jobs already, an ad or two, a calendar shoot too, I think. Bruce told me this morning that some casting director claiming to be from Agrolica studios approached the guy about an acting job or something after the show last week."

"Are you serious? Vegeta? Modeling?" Bulma looked at him, barely able to believe what she was hearing. Vegeta, modeling clothing in a fashion show. Who'd 'a thunk it?

"Yeah, I'm serious. And he's got Bruce wrapped around his pinky."

"Wait a minute Caleb…You're worried about Vegeta…stealing Bruce?" Caleb nodded, and Bulma looked at him as if he had grown another head. "But…Vegeta's…He's not gay…at least…not as far as I know."

"He's…not? But I thought…I…I guess I just assumed…"

"I've seen him show a little interest in women, not much, but much more than I've seen him show in men." She blushed a little, remembering what Gohan had told her about Vegeta calling her 'gorgeous' on Namek. Not to mention the few times she had felt his dark gaze following her since he had moved into Capsule Corporation with her family. And the way he had become almost flirty in the few weeks before she had kicked him out…_Damn, I'm a total idiot._ She thought, her brow creasing in irritation. 

"You have some sort of…history with him?" Caleb prodded, noticing the faint coloring of her cheeks.

"Well…not exactly. He lived with me for about a year…but we fought a lot…and I don't know…I was in a bad mood one day, and I just went berserk on him. I kicked him out and haven't heard from him since. That was a few weeks ago."

"About the same time he turned up in Bruce's office."

"Geez…I wonder how that ended up happening." She laughed lightly. "I mean, I can't see Vegeta modeling…"

"Oh, if you saw him on that runway, you'd have been swooning, just like everyone else." Caleb blushed a little, remembering his initial reaction upon seeing Vegeta. Just like the rest of the crowd, the strange, dangerous looking man had captivated him. 

"That good huh? I can imagine he'd look pretty good," she giggled, her cheeks growing pinker as she thought about Vegeta as a model, "but it's just hard to imagine him actually willingly doing it." 

"Yeah, I wouldn't have figured him the type either, seeing him…that's why I jumped to the conclusion that he was…well, you know."

"Caleb, you're too funny. You're the gay one, and you can't even say it!" 

"My mother would kill me if she found out Bulma."

"Oh and what do you plan to do? Hide it forever?"

"No…I just…I'm just not ready to tell anyone."

"Not even Bruce?" Bulma asked softly, well aware of the feelings Caleb had for the eccentric designer.

"Especially not Bruce. I couldn't handle the rejection."

"And what makes you think he's going to reject you? Caleb, you're one of the best guys I know. If you were into girls, I'd be all over you." She giggled, drawing another blush from him.

"What a brash woman you are, Bulma Briefs. It's going to take one helluva man to keep you happy. But know what? You're definitely worth it. Why, if I was into girls, I'd have thrown you over my shoulder and taken you off, caveman style, a long time ago." He teased, knowing she liked her men strong, brave, and just a little bit rough. Blushing profusely, she stuck her tongue out at him, wishing she had never chosen to divulge that little secret of hers.

"Anyway," she coughed, clearing her throat and changing the subject. "About lot #59…"

So there you have it! Caleb is gay! Bet you all saw that one coming! *giggle* 

And Vegeta's agent has quite the name, ne? Shelly Garris-Hoderpesenburgh. It's harder to type than it is to pronounce…*Giggle* But just incase you're wondering, it's pronounced: "Hoe-der-pee-zen-burg."

Lemme see…**Mp3 of the day** today is… "Missing You" by Glay. 


	8. Forbidden Fruit

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

****

Author's Notes: Hey everybody! Big news! Stuff actually happens in this chapter!! Well…sorta…lol. Either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Special thanks to ssjblackguy, Silversun, and Bulma Peacecraft for beta-ing!

8: Forbidden Fruit

"You took her from me…" Vegeta snarled, stalking toward the frightened man. "You took her from me, and I will MAKE YOU PAY!" He screamed, one hand shooting out to grab the cowering man, lifting him up by his shirt.

"P…Please, I'll do anything! Please, just don't hurt me!" The poor man shrieked, flailing and kicking in the air as the Saiyan held him steady above the ground.

Vegeta smirked, a chilling, malicious grin spreading across his face as he raised the human higher into the air. "It's too late for that now, human." He spat. "You took her away from me, in cold blooded murder." His voice was soft and raspy, and he let out a tiny, insane little chuckle. "And now I'm going to do the same to you."

The human looked down, terrified to the core of his very being, at the strange man, no, creature, that was holding him in the air. "Please," he begged again, "Please no…"

"Prepare to die, human scum." Vegeta laughed, a loud, chilling sound, hollow, yet full of malice. His head snapped back, the repulsive sound growing louder by the second, until it just stopped, altogether, without warning. Vegeta's head snapped up straight, and he yanked the human toward him, so close he could feel the fear radiating off the lowly being. His malevolent grin vanished, and his cruel black eyes narrowed, simmering with pure, unadulterated insanity, complete and utter madness in their dark depths. "I will have my revenge…" he whispered. "I will not stop until every last one of your lives are spilled upon the ground."

"And this is where you would plunge your fist through his chest cavity, but that's good for today." Ray Hampton stood, his entire body shaken from Vegeta's stunning performance. He swallowed thickly as Vegeta let go of the other actor's shirt, dropping him to the ground with a thump and a squeak from the poor man. His terror had been real, and staring into the Saiyan's dark eyes had been the most chilling experience in his life. 

Vegeta blinked, his coal eyes closing off again, back to their usual impenetrable gaze. He squinted in the bright stage lights they had set up for the auditions, and scowled at the intense heat they gave off. He wished he had taken off his sweater before stepping onto the small, makeshift stage for his reading. Ray hadn't let him though, fearing that he would allow himself to be swayed by the intense musculature of Vegeta's body, rather than whether or not acting skill was present. As it turned out, he seemed to have an abundance of it.

"Carl, would you turn on the main lights please?" Ray shouted into the darkness, and a moment later all the ceiling lights in the studio came whooshing on as everyone winced and covered their eyes from the sudden brightness. "Well, Vegeta" he said, as the Saiyan stepped of the stage, walking toward him, "I have to say that you put on a most impressive performance. I shouldn't be telling you this," he whispered, conspiratorially, "but yours is the best audition we've seen yet."

Vegeta nodded, keeping his outward appearance passive and calm. Inwardly, he was unsettled…nervous, even. There was something about the character that he was auditioning for that struck him as being profoundly close to home. 

"We've got a few more guys to see today, and then we're done with auditions," Ray continued, handing Vegeta a thick script, "but I have a good feeling that we won't see anything better than you for this particular role. Now, I'm not saying this is a solid deal yet, but I want you to read over the script, familiarize yourself with the character some more, get a hang of the story, you know the deal. Anyway, on the off chance that someone even comes close to your performance today, we'll call you in for another audition. Now, I have both your number and that of Mrs…your agent?"

"Hn." Vegeta nodded, taking the thick coiled book of paper. 

"Excellent. So I'll be in touch then with either her or yourself." Ray smiled, giving Vegeta's hand a quick shake. 

"Ray, you know as well as I do that there's no point in even bothering with the other auditions." Carl, an assistant casting director whispered, watching the Saiyan saunter out of the studio. "He's exactly what you're looking for. I don't think it would even be possible to find anyone more perfect for the role." 

"True, true. But we can't take that chance. Besides, if he decides not to do it, we need a backup guy, right?" Ray turned back to his staff, tapping his pencil on a thick notepad he had been taking notes on. "Alright, who's next in line?"

Vegeta stepped out into the bright light of the day, holding the thick script comfortably under one arm and carrying his sweater with the other. It was beautiful out, and the city streets were packed with Chikyuu-jin shoppers, decked out in their summer clothes. He felt a little hot himself, wearing his heavy jeans and sneakers, carrying the thick hooded sweater around. And suddenly, he realized that he didn't actually own any 'casual' human shorts for hot days. Sure, he had his spandex for training, but was observant enough to realize that spandex shorts were not considered terribly hip or attractive in Chikyuu society.

Eyeing the window displays as he walked, Vegeta spotted a store that looked appropriate, and ducked inside to be greeted by a friendly teenage girl, who eyed him with an entirely inappropriate gaze in her heavily made up eyes. "Is there anything I can help you with, sir?" She cooed, batting thick eyelashes at him.

"Shorts." He said simply, looking around the store curiously. 

"If you'll follow me over here, I'm sure we can find something for you." She smiled pleasantly, leading the way toward the men's section of the store. 

Thirty minutes later, Vegeta left the store, wearing a pair of brand new khaki shorts. Three other pairs of shorts sat in the bag he carried, along with his jeans, sweater, and the script for Ray's movie. The salesgirl had been quite sad to see him go, and had naturally tried to coerce him to stay and try more clothing on, but the Saiyan man had been intent on leaving. He had training to do, and had no time to waste trying on foolish human clothing, though she had successfully convinced him to buy a pair of sandals, which he was wearing. His sneakers were dangling from his fingers by their laces, as he hadn't wanted to put the potentially smelly footwear in the same bag as his nice new shorts.

"Sir, you look mighty hot!" a vendor called, and Vegeta turned around to see a very strangely dressed man addressing him. "Perhaps I can interest you in an ice cream cone!" 

"That depends on what flavors you have." He said, but wandered over toward the small stand. He peered through the glass casing, having a certain fondness for the cold treat. "I'll have that kind." He pointed to the bucket, "In the biggest size cone you have." 

"There you go sir! Have a great day!" The vendor smiled, handing Vegeta the triple scoop cone of bubble gum ice cream. He took a lick, remembering that he would get what Bulma had called a 'Brain Freeze' if he ate it too fast.

A few feet away, a group of girls giggled and cooed, trying to make themselves look as cute as possible as the Saiyan passed, completely engrossed in his ice cream cone. They sighed and pouted as he walked past, completely ignoring the flirtatious looks they sent his way as he concentrated on licking up the melting treat, as it threatened to drip down onto his hand. 

***

Caleb hopped into his convertible, tossing his briefcase on the passenger seat, pulling out of the Capsule Corporation parking lot. Patting his coat pocket, he made sure he still had the envelope Bulma had given him, rather curious to what it contained. But alas, he would probably never know, as it was addressed to Vegeta, a man likely to keep his personal life a secret.

"Ahh well," he sighed, "at least I know Bulma trusts him…I mean, if Bulma trusts him, he can't be too bad." He chuckled lightly to himself, "But then again, Bulma tends to make bad decisions when it comes to gorgeous men."

***

"I'll take that one." Bulma told the cashier, glancing hurriedly at her watch. Her lunch break was almost over and she had to be back at the office in less that fifteen minutes. Thirteen minutes, and four seconds, to be exact. The smiling old man handed her magazine over, and, stuffing it haphazardly into her briefcase, she scurried off down the sidewalk, trying her best to avoid getting her stiletto heels stuck in any cracks. She was still a little wobbly on the thin spikes, feeling much more comfortable in flats or sneakers, but the times were changing, and sadly to say, thin, feminine heels were in. 

Hearing a lewd comment, accompanied by a long, low whistle from a passing car, she frowned and tugged her skirt down a few inches, cursing the static that kept it clinging to her shapely legs. Usually, she would have smiled at the comment, maybe even blow the cat-caller a kiss, or wink, but she was in far too much of a hurry to be anything but annoyed.

Popping her favorite Hoi-Poi Capsule, a cherry red, convertible-style air car, she sped off toward the Capsule Corporation Compound, her eyes constantly straying toward the briefcase on the seat beside her. Her fingers just itched to tear it open, to flip through the pages of her prize and quell the bubbling curiosity in her belly.

Arriving at the massive, dome shaped building, she encapsulated her air car and scurried up toward her office, tapping one finely pedicured foot on the elevator floor as she waited impatiently to make it's way to her level. "Oh, for the love of…" she muttered under her breath, "The stairs would have been faster!"

Finally arriving at her destination, she strode briskly toward her office, plastering on her best _'I'm busy and in a hurry so if you stop me, it had better be good'_ expression.

Upon entering her office, she hastily shut the door, prying open the briefcase before even sitting at her desk. Grinning in triumph, she held the glossy prize before her; the latest issue of _Fashion Week Monthly_; cover story, _'Emerging designer, Bruce Hoffman, blows the critics away with the racy outfits and daring models featured in his "Leather and Lace" collection!'_

Fingers shaking in anticipation, she turned to page twenty-seven, and gaped at the full-page spread of Bruce flanked by his models, taking in the praise at the end of the show. And there stood Vegeta, in all his shirtless, scowling glory, wearing a pair of skintight leather pants.

Bulma swallowed heavily, blushing as she tore her eyes away and turned the page, only to see another shot of her Saiyan friend, this time in a different pair of pants, still leather, and still shirtless, but wearing gloves and carrying a cowboy hat in one hand. He was smirking directly at the camera, radiating a certain sex appeal that she had never really noticed about him. 

Sure, he had always been good looking, well muscled, and mysterious…but to Bulma he had always been bossy, introverted, stuck up Vegeta. Growing up with Goku, she had always just thought of Vegeta as another good looking guy she would never date. And of course, Mrs. Briefs always fawned over the Saiyan no Ouji, even more than she did the other fighters, obviously seeing something in the temperamental little alien that Bulma herself did not notice…until she found herself unable to look away from Vegeta's smirking face.

It was the usual smirk, she was sure…but somehow…somehow it seemed almost teasing…sultry and enticing…so blatantly sexy that Bulma wondered how she ever could have missed it.

An exasperated cry escaping her suddenly dry throat, she slapped the magazine shut, throwing it onto her desk. "What the hell am I doing? It's just Vegeta…It's not like he's never smirked at me, and it's not like this is the first time I've seen him shirtless. It's no big deal! No big deal at all! So why the hell am I wasting time gawking at that stuck up little prick when I should be working!" She shouted to herself.

__

Probably because you'd like him to 'stuck up little prick' you. Her mind retorted.

"Oh, it's not little at all." She snapped back, vividly remembering the time she had accidentally walked in on him while he was changing. 

__

Interesting that you find it necessary to remember something like that in such vivid detail.

"It wasn't my fault!" she squeaked to herself, "He was in the laundry room, for Kami's sake! He just stripped down in there! I was going to get some socks, damn it!" She flushed hotly, squirming in her seat as the image of Vegeta's muscular, naked body refused to leave her mind.

They had both been duly embarrassed, Vegeta even more than herself, which had come as a surprise. What with all his prancing around in skintight shorts, she had figured that nudity would not bother him so much.

__

Oh, come off it Bulma. You know you couldn't get it out of your head for weeks. Even now, you're blushing like a schoolgirl over a simple piece of male anatomy. You're no virgin, Bulma. It's not like you'd never seen one before. It's just because it's Vegeta. He's like the forbidden fruit, Bulma Briefs, the man you shouldn't even be thinking about.

"Shut up you. I can think about whoever I want, in any way I damn well want to!" She picked up her magazine. "Now, I'm going to _read_ the _article_ and if I want to stare at Vegeta in the process, then I'll do just that! If anyone has a problem with that, then they can take it up with me! Who I think about is nobody's business but mine!" She shot back aloud, picking up her magazine and propping her feet up on the large, oak desk.

__

Bulma…I'm your brain. Everything you do is my business.

***

Vegeta walked out of the elevator, surprised to see Caleb waiting outside of his door. "I didn't know if you were home or not." The landlord smiled, feeling much friendlier knowing that Vegeta was no competition for Bruce's affections. "I was just about to ring the bell."

"Well I'm here now." The Saiyan said shortly, "what is it?"

"I have something for you." Caleb said, patting down his pockets. From somewhere within his suit-coat, he procured a crisp white envelope, with the word 'Vegeta' scrawled across the front in a familiar, looping hand. 

"Bulma." Vegeta said simply, more of a statement than a question. It smelled like her, the subtle, feminine scent still clinging to the paper, still sweet to his senses, even through Caleb's more masculine odor. 

"Yeah…I didn't know you two were friends." The blonde ventured, curious about the connection between his strange new tenant, and his childhood friend. 

"Neither did I." Vegeta mumbled, taking the envelope from Caleb's outstretched hand. He turned to unlock his door, but stopped, feeling the weight of a hand on his shoulder. Twitching slightly, he shrugged the offending palm away, turning to face his landlord.

"She…I think she's worried about you." Caleb muttered quietly, looking deep into the Saiyan's eyes, desperately trying to see something other than the cold, calculating barrier of black. "Maybe…maybe you should call her or something…just to tell her how you're doing."

"The woman kicked me out." Vegeta snapped, throwing open his door. "If she cared about how I was doing, I wouldn't be here, would I?"

Caleb blinked in surprise, as the door slammed shut in his face with a heavy thud. Two doors down, Bruce's head poked out of his doorway, frowning worriedly. "What did you say to him?" He scolded, padding down the hall in his slippers to where his friend stood. "Come on, out with it!"

"I…I don't know." Caleb stuttered, knowing he had touched a sour note with his moody tenant. Perhaps there was more to the situation than Bulma had let on. "Come on." He said, grabbing Bruce's arm and pulling him down the hall.

"Where are we going?" Bruce whined, lurching forward, his slippers making soft slapping noises on the floor. 

"We're going to your apartment, where you're going to tell me everything you know about that man over a nice vanilla-flavored cappuccino."

Vegeta sighed, leaning against the closed door, the unopened envelope grasped tightly in his fingers. He wanted to open it, desperately curious to see what she could possibly have to say to him, yet at the same time, he wanted to rip it to shreds and remove any reminders of the woman from his presence. Groaning, he pushed himself away from the door, stalking into the kitchen, where he perched himself on a stool, tearing open the envelope. Pulling out a single sheet of folded paper, a rectangular, plastic card bounced out, clattering to the floor. Vegeta ignored it, unfolding the paper, to see the Capsule Corporation logo emblazoned in the top right corner. _Bulma Briefs Vice President_, it read, with her work address and phone number printed below. A little further down, she had written a note in her familiar scrawling hand, and Vegeta felt a little pull in his stomach, remembering all the times he had seen that familiar penmanship adorning a plate of food in the fridge late at night.

Shaking his head, he scoffed at his own sentimentality, and fixed his brain on the written human language that had become second nature to him.

__

Hey there Vegeta, the note began,_ I suppose you're probably pretty pissed at me, aren't you? Well, maybe not completely, if you're actually taking the time to read this._

Anyway, I was really worried about you…I was so relieved when Caleb let it slip that you were staying in one of his apartments. 

"Feh," he snorted, rolling his eyes at her protectiveness.

__

You're probably snorting right now, I bet, thinking that I should have no reason to be worried about a Saiyan Prince like yourself.

Vegeta allowed himself a small smile as he read on. She knew him so well.

__

Anyway, I should probably get back on topic. I suppose you've probably noticed by now that a Capsule Corp. employee expense card has fallen out. I created a company account for you and put a few thousand bucks in there. I figure that should be enough to keep you fed and sheltered for a few weeks, ne? It's all I can really do for now, because if I put any more in there, people might start to get suspicious, and I suppose you probably know all about what the rumor mill can do to a huge organization like CC. Anyway, your new pin number is 2609, so don't forget that, and don't tell anyone else, okay? I don't want some crazy thief spending CC money illegally! 

Vegeta bent down, picking the blue plastic card up off the floor, turning it over in his hands before he read on. He'd seen Bulma use one of these before, once when she had taken him shopping for normal human clothing, insisting to the stubborn prince that she would buy him nothing but pink unless he came with her. He quickly recalled how she had used the card, and made a point to memorize his new pin number.

__

I know you probably don't want to see me at all. That's why I sent this letter instead of coming to see you personally…but if you don't mind, maybe I could get your phone number from Caleb. Or you could even call me, maybe. My cell number is (780) 555-3345 if you ever feel like giving me a call. I'd like to talk to you some time. It's sort of hard to write this note, not knowing if you'll even read it. So tell you what, if you don't make any attempt to contact me, I will get your number from Caleb. You know I will! And even if Caleb doesn't know your number, Bruce will!

You know, I bet yelling through writing doesn't have nearly as good an effect as yelling in person. I shouldn't say that though, because you won't want to talk to me if I'm going to yell at you, huh?

This might not mean a lot to you Vegeta, but I am sorry, for what it's worth. I was stressed, and I shouldn't have taken that out on you.

Bulma Briefs

Vegeta frowned, looking down at the note. She was sorry, but there was no invitation back to the CC compound. In fact, she was encouraging him to stay away, giving him that card and all. Was it possible that she didn't even want him to come back? 

The thought hurt a little, Vegeta realized, folding the note and tucking it back into the envelope. He fished his wallet out of his back pocket and stuffed the credit card into one of the empty card slots. His bank card was the only other one he had, and its shiny red surface peeked out at him, reminding him that he had earned it by himself. That bankcard wasn't a hand out from Bulma, the wench who thought he couldn't survive on his own. 

Growling, he snapped his wallet shut and set it on the counter, vowing not to use Bulma's expense account. What was he doing, even bothering to waste brainpower remembering the stupid pin number? What an insult! A hand out! Who did she think he was? Some lowly bum on the street? He was the Prince of the Saiyans, by damn, and there was no way in hell he'd degrade himself by accepting it! He didn't need her money or her pity. He'd be fine all by himself…

But he couldn't help wishing that wasn't the case.

****

Mp3 of the Day: Hrmm…okay, "Metro" by System of A Down. It's a remake of an older song, nothing like the original though. I like it better than most System. Less screaming and anger, though there are a few mentions of that nasty 'F' word, so be warned if you're easily offended. Really, it's not even that bad though.


	9. Porno

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

****

Author's Notes: Oh man! I am sooo sorry it's taken me so long to update! Believe me, I could kick myself right now! But I've been really swamped with midterms and stuff, (stuff being things I'd rather not talk about right now…lol) so I'm not just being lazy! *giggle* Anyway, I hope you guys all like this chapter, and again, I'm really sorry about the huge delay!!

*Special Thanks to ssjblackguy, and Kat8125, for beta-ing*

9: Porno

Icy blue eyes narrowed in concentration as Bulma stared at her cell phone, willing it to ring. It had been two weeks, _two whole weeks _since Caleb had delivered that note for her, and nothing! The expense account remained inactive, and her phone had not rung once. Was it possible that Vegeta was still angry with her? 

"That's probably it…" she muttered to herself. "Even after I apologize, stubborn bastard doesn't come back." She scoffed, dismissing the fact that she hadn't exactly given him any indication that she wanted him to come home to Capsule Corp. "Well, I think it's about time I called him. Give that damn Saiyan an earful."

Snatching up the phone, she dialed Caleb's number, fully intent on squeezing Vegeta's number out of her long-time friend. "Mr. VanDios' office, how may I help you?" A woman's voice answered, and Bulma smiled, picturing Caleb's beautiful young secretary. A cover, he had confided in her, to disguise his hidden sexuality.

"This is Bulma Briefs. I need to speak to Mr. VanDios right away. It's urgent."

"All right," the secretary's voice responded, somewhat reluctantly. It seemed to her that there was something going on between the Briefs woman and her handsome boss, and it was safe to say that she was jealous. "I'll patch you through."

"Y'ello?" Caleb's voice came through a moment later, clear and deep.

"Caleb, old buddy, old pal," Bulma snickered to herself, "I was wondering if you could do me a teensy favor?"

A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone, and Caleb grumbled "What is it now?"

"Would you happen to know Vegeta's phone number?" She tried to keep the excitement out of her voice as she fiddled with a loose strand of hair. 

"Just a minute," Caleb mumbled, pulling his Rolodex across the desk, and flipping to the V's. He made it a point to keep all of his tenants in order, and reachable at all times. "Vegeta, Vegeta…" he mumbled, flipping past Harold Valltom and Henrietta Vedril. "Here it is. Vegeta…Bulma, just a quick question. Does this guy have a last name? I mean, Bruce said that he's an orphan and all, but to not even know your own last name? Kinda strange."

"Vegeta's lived a strange life. From what I know, his parents died when he was really young. Probably doesn't remember them all that much." The line was silent for a moment, and neither spoke. "Anyway," Bulma burst out, breaking the silence. "The number?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. (780) 555-0103."

"Thanks! You're a sweetie!" Bulma giggled, hanging up the phone before Caleb could respond. He shook his head, laughing to himself. 

"She must be really hung up on this guy." He snickered, "But then again, I can definitely see why." All other romantic interests aside, the young businessman could definitely appreciate a good-looking man.

Bulma dialed hurriedly, her fingers quickly punching down the keys. She was surprised to find that she was almost trembling with the anticipation of speaking to Vegeta, and had to take a few deep breaths to calm herself.

A busy signal greeted her waiting ear, followed by a cold mechanical voice, telling her exactly what she already knew.

"Yeah, uh huh." Vegeta mumbled into the phone, around a piece of cold chicken. Shelly Garris-Hoderpesenburgh, his agent, had called, practically screeching her ear off in excitement.

"Vegeta, damn it! Why aren't you EXCITED??? This is your first real acting job, and it's with such a hugely anticipated movie! You're going to be a star Vegeta! Everyone will know your name!"

"I expected nothing less."

"WHAT???" Shelly sputtered into the phone, ignoring the look her eldest child was giving her. "What do you mean, you expected it? This is a big part! Hundreds of guys auditioned!"

"And I'm the best one." Vegeta said simply, swallowing his chicken. He put his plate into the sink and wandered over to his new couch, putting his feet up on the glass coffee table Bruce had picked out. The apartment was fully furnished now, thanks to a little calendar shoot. The soft black leather squeaked slightly beneath him, and Vegeta smirked, enjoying the feel of the cool hide against his skin. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of shorts, fresh out of a hot shower after a long workout.

"Vegeta, you can't get cocky in this kind of profession. Just because you get one or two good jobs doesn't mean you're set for life."

"Shelly, they picked me 'cause I'm the cockiest bastard on this whole planet."

"They picked you because you look like the devil incarnate!" She shot back, and the line was silent for a moment. Thinking she had hurt his feelings, she sputtered an apology into the phone. But in reality Vegeta was staring, wide eyed at the television.

"We now return you to Zalman King's _Red Shoe Diaries_."

"Um, I have to go." He swallowed thickly, pressing the 'end' button on his cell phone, his wide eyes never leaving the television.

"Ooohhh, yes, harder…" a woman moaned, and Vegeta was taken aback. There were people on the television screen, and they were…were…having sex! Why? Why would they show such an awful thing on television?

Just as he was about to change the channel, he noticed something. What that man was doing to that woman was definitely not what he had done to women in his time. And that woman, she was definitely not doing what women had done with him, or any of the other men he knew, for that matter.

She was…responding.

Vegeta leant forward toward the television, captivated by the woman's soft moans, the way she whimpered and strained beneath the man. "What sort of human foolishness is this?" He mumbled, watching as she cried out again, bucking for more. 

Much to his embarrassment, he found himself becoming quickly aroused, not so much by the sight of the couple on his television screen, but by the thought of the woman's reaction. All the women he had ever been with, the ones on Frieza's ships…they had never acted like the woman on the television was acting. She looked so alive, such a contrast from the mindless pleasure slaves in the harem, who lay still and did what they were told without complaint. Perhaps all women were not like that…

"No," he reminded himself "they also have television shows about magical fairies and sleeping princesses here. It makes sense that they would try to glorify such an act. Probably to make them want to reproduce." He scoffed, but couldn't help thinking that such a feisty woman would be interesting to have in bed. 

__

"Remember, Prince Vegeta," soft-spoken words from the past sprang unbidden into his mind. _"There is more to it than physical release. Some day, you will meet a female worthy to be your mate, and coupling with her will be more wonderful than anything you could ever imagine."_

"Radditz…" his young self had said, turning to the long-haired guardian as Nappa stood silently by. He trailed off, almost wanting to thank the other soldier for the comfort, but not being quite able to force out the humbling words. Perhaps if they had been alone it would have been easier, but they were not.

__

Yes, my Prince?"

"Shut the fuck up." He had snapped, resorting to the one emotion he knew how to deal with; anger.

__

You are most welcome, Highness." Radditz had grinned then, his wolfish smile looking more like a threat than a display of humor.

Vegeta scowled to himself, mulling the memory over and over in his mind. Radditz had never lied to him. He and Nappa had always been perfectly loyal and honest with the young monarch, and the mischievous young soldier would not have dared deceive his prince, even with the intent of comforting him. 

The ringing of his cell phone startled him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, ready to give the caller a good tongue-lashing.

"Hello?"

"Vegeta?" the timid voice came from the other end, and onyx eyes widened slightly. It was Bulma.

"Wo…Woman." Vegeta muttered back, still staring at the television, and suddenly imagining himself and his female caller in such a position.

"I told you I'd call." She said, and he grunted in response, remembering her note. "I…I just wanted to see how you were doing." He was silent for a moment, and her ears pricked, hearing a voice in the background. A female voice; a moaning, begging voice. "Wh…Who's with you? Did I…did I interrupt something?" She questioned hesitantly, not really wanting to know the answer.

"It's the television…Tell me, woman, why would people consent to having sex on the television?"

"I…People well…they like…Vegeta, are you watching porno?" She suddenly screeched in surprise, secretly letting out a sigh of relief.

"I turned on the television and it was on." He said softly, suddenly very embarrassed, wishing that he had not blurted out such a brash question. Bulma started giggling on the other end, and he found himself blushing, much to his displeasure.

"Oh, Vegeta, you still have a lot to learn about Earth society." She laughed, and the empty ring of the dial tone assaulted her ear. She blinked her eyes several times in surprise. "That little bastard hung up on me!" She snarled, dialing his number up again.

"Vegeta you ass!" she screeched as he answered. "Why'd you hang up on me?"

"In case you haven't learned, Woman, I do not like to be mocked."

"Mocked? How in hell was I mocking you?" She wailed, flailing her free arm in the air, even though she knew he couldn't see her.

"When I left, you told me I wouldn't be able to make it in the human world by myself. But it appears, woman, that I am doing just fine." He snapped.

"Yeah…I heard about that…" she said, glancing over at the small collection of magazines stacked beside her bed. Each one of them featured her Saiyan friend in some article or advertisement. "How's that working out for you?"

"I'm sitting on leather couch, in my own apartment, talking on my cell phone. My belly is full, I'm wearing clothes, and I've got a big fat movie script to go over before filming starts next month." 

"F…filming? Movie script?" 

"Yep. Seems this Saiyan is more capable than you thought." He drawled, smirking to himself, as he hung up, before Bulma could reply. She didn't call back, which was good, because it gave Vegeta more time to study this human thing called 'porno' a little more.

Thinking back, accessing memories long forced into the recesses of his mind, Vegeta supposed that he shouldn't have been so surprised to see what Bulma called 'porno' on his television. Many a time as a young man, he had indulged in the viewing of such videos with his crewmates while on a purging mission for Frieza, if only to fit into the group. The other soldiers watched the images of sex and nudity with the idea that it was suitable in the absence of a female, while Vegeta, already an outcast, watched for the same reason he visited the harems; to avoid being ostracized by his shipmates.

What he had watched though, as a young teen with the other soldiers, was far different than the program on the television. It was crude and violent, designed to satisfy the filthiest of sexual appetites, perfect for the men of Frieza's ship. But on his television, soft music played, there were candles and silk sheets and soft, feminine moans carried from the speakers into his ear. He remembered Radditz's words and frowned, but at the same time, he wanted to smile. 

All aspects of life in Frieza's army had been harsh, and it made sense to him that sex would be that way as well, but as silly as it sounded, the fact had never really occurred to him before coming to Earth. But now it was there, gnawing at his brain, and spiking his inquisitive nature. This was proof, this 'porno'. The fact that Bulma had not seemed disgusted at all was proof, wasn't it?

Cocking his head, Vegeta observed the gentle coupling, the soft moans and the closeness of the couple as they moved against each other. Even knowing it was fake, that the couple was a pair of actors, he found himself wanting what they had. A small part of him, locked deep inside, a part that Frieza had never managed to poison, craved something other than a quick fuck, more than physical satisfaction…

It wanted love.

But buried so deep in his subconscious, this small part was overshadowed by a lifetime of pain and suffering. Confusion and fear kept it there, unable to emerge and take its rightful place in the conscious psyche of the prideful Saiyan no Ouji. 

***

"Caleb, I really have no idea what you want to know about him." Bruce whined, squirming in his chair.

"Just tell me everything." Caleb replied, blowing on his vanilla cappuccino before taking a sip of the creamy drink. It was the third time in two weeks that he had tried to grill Bruce for information about the new tenant.

"I don't know…I mean, he doesn't ever talk about himself. Hell, he rarely ever talks, for that matter."

"Why'd you warm up to him so fast then Bruce? I know you, and sure, you're friendly, but you seem to be especially taken with Vegeta. I mean…there's nothing…going on…between you two…is there?"

"I wish" Bruce snorted, sipping the drink in his hands, and let out a muttered "Oh poop diddly," as the scalding liquid burned his tongue. "We both know he's not gay. I could tell from the start!" he proclaimed with a laugh. "I have a sixth sense about that kind of thing!"

Caleb choked on his cappuccino for a moment, reminding himself that Bruce was only kidding around, as he regained his bearings. Surely if his friend had realized, he would have said something. Bruce wasn't the type to let such an important issue as his best friend's hidden sexuality slide. 

"So what the hell is it about him then Bruce?" He demanded, scowling down into his cappuccino.

Bruce was taken aback for a moment by the bitter tone in his friend's voice, but shrugged it off, realizing that he had been neglecting their friendship a little lately, in his enthusiasm to help get Vegeta settled in. "I…I don't know Caleb…I mean…he just looks…lost. Like he's not sure where he fits into the world. Can't you see that in his eyes? He just looks so lonely Caleb!"

"Well maybe that's because he doesn't talk to anyone. Maybe he doesn't want to talk to people, Bruce."

"No…I don't think that's completely it. I mean, sure, he's a little antisocial, I can tell that much. But…but it's almost like he doesn't quite know _how_ to open up." Bruce said, then in a soft, almost conspiratorial whisper, "I know he's an orphan, he told me that much. He said he was raised in a foster home, but Caleb, look at him, you've seen all those scars. I think he was a victim of some sort of child abuse. He's got all the classic signs. He's closed off, antisocial, quiet, full of scars," he ticked the reasons off on his fingers, "And good God, Caleb, he's constantly working out!"

"Bruce, a lot of people work out a lot." Caleb pointed out, not quite sure whether to believe Bruce's theory or not. It certainly would offer an explanation to Vegeta's closed off personality.

"But Caleb, it's not about building muscles or getting toned or anything like that. Vegeta is _obsessed_ with getting _stronger_. Why would anyone be like that if they didn't feel like they had something to be afraid of?"

"I wonder…if Bulma might know something." 

"Bulma?" Bruce asked, "Why would Bulma know anything about Vegeta?"

"He was living with her for a while. I went to see her a few weeks ago and she seemed pretty anxious to find out if he was okay. She called me earlier at work to get his phone number."

"Do you think there's some sort of romantical interest between them?" Bruce gasped, "Wasn't she with that Yamcha character though?"

"Don't get any ideas Bruce. Bulma's a flirt sometimes, but she's not the cheating type."

"But didn't you tell me that her relationship with Yamcha was getting a little strained? I mean, remember that fight they had last time we saw them together? Maybe Bulma's harboring some secret feelings for Vegeta." Bruce was starry eyed, about to go into matchmaker mode.

"Bruce, don't be silly. You know that Bulma and Yamcha are always snippy with each other. Those two have been on and off like that for years." Caleb sighed, mulling the thought over in his head, nevertheless. Bulma hadn't exactly said how long she had known Vegeta, but it was entirely possible that she had a little crush on the man. He was exactly her type, and gorgeous in that animalistic, primal way she so often fantasized about. 

Maybe playing a little bit of matchmaker wouldn't be such a bad idea after all…

Lol, I've been told that Red Shoe Diaries is weak porn, and well, that was sort of the point…lol. I heard it's more of a romantic story kinda thing, aimed more at a female audience…and that's kind of what I was going for. Gotta show good ole Vegeta the romantic aspect of the horizontal polka. *giggle* Either way, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I don't know how long it will take me to get the next one out. Hopefully not as long as it did this one!

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Mp3 of the day: I'm in a bit of a crazy mood today, so I'm going with 'S-Conscious' by Malice Mizer. Enjoy! *giggle*


	10. Conversations

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

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Author's Notes: Okay, I know I took a long time again, things are still really busy 'round here. Plus, I've been working on a site, just so all my fics can be found in one place (as some of you may already know, I don't control the one listed in my author profile, and it's been dead in the water for about a year), so that's been taking up some time. Then there's school, which has been super evil. I've got a long weekend, and I had hoped to get ahead in my writing, but it looks like that ain't gonna happen…Either way, on with the chapter! *giggle*

*Special thanks to ssjblackguy, Kat8125, and Silver Sun for beta-ing*

10: Conversations

Bulma called again a few days later, and Vegeta found himself glad for her company. Bruce and Caleb were nowhere to be found, both busy with their jobs, and even though he was enjoying his solitude, he had begun to miss the presence of Bulma and her family.

"So you're eating enough? Wearing clean underwear every day?" Bulma questioned anxiously, not caring that she was mothering him.

"Woman, my underwear is none of your business." He snapped, but smiled to himself. For some reason, their conversations were much friendlier over the phone. There was something about talking face to face that unnerved Vegeta, and he found it much easier to open up when he didn't have to worry about seeing the look on her face.

"Oh come on Vegeta, when you lived here, I washed those underwear." She giggled, hugging a pillow to her chest. She was in her bedroom, in her pajamas and all ready for bed. But thoughts of the Saiyan had plagued her mind, making sleep an impossibility, so she had finally caved in and called him. It was midnight, and lucky for her, Vegeta was a night owl, because he was wide-awake, just having arrived home from a late night jog in the park. 

"Well, I don't live there anymore, do I?" He said softly, unable to bite his tongue before the words spilled out. She didn't say anything, and he wished for a moment that he hadn't said the words. He wanted her to keep talking to him, to keep calling him. It was almost like they were friends, and much to his surprise, he found himself enjoying it.

"Vegeta…I…"

"Forget I said it." he cut her off, afraid that if he let her continue speaking, she would tell him she didn't want him to come back. She was silent for a moment, obviously thinking, and then she sighed softly, and he could hear her rustling around through the phone.

"Your face is all over the magazines." She said, finally. "I never would have figured that you'd want all this publicity. I mean, you always seemed like such an introvert to me."

"I was born in the public eye. Besides, that's all a show," he replied smoothly, stretching out on his bed, feeling his joints pop and crack. 

"Well it's a pretty good show. We were all amazed at how well you seem to handle yourself in an interview."

"We?"

"You know, my parents…the gang…everybody." She heard him snort at her mention of her other friends, and she scowled slightly. "I think Yamcha's jealous though," she giggled, "because you're stealing all his publicity." _That, and I've been collecting magazines just to see your pictures, like a teenybopper with a crush on some star she's never met._ She added in her head, too embarrassed to tell Vegeta about her little collection.

"He should be jealous." The Saiyan mumbled, "After all, I'm stronger, and not to mention better looking than that sorry excuse for a fighter."

"Vegeta, be nice." She giggled, surprised to find that she hadn't jumped instinctively to the defense of her long time boyfriend. Instead, she was laughing, secretly agreeing with Vegeta.

"Now, now, you know that's not my style." He smirked to himself, switching the phone to his other ear so he could roll over.

"An all around Badman, right?" Bulma snickered, unable to help herself. His growl at the reminder of the hideous pink shirt, only served to increase her fit of giggles, and she soon had to cover her mouth, muffling the giddy laughter so as not to wake her parents.

"Not completely," he shot back, "Just a little."

__

Just enough to make me want you, she thought, but instead, cleared her throat and said, "So, this underwear ad here is pretty interesting." She giggled, flipping through the pages of one of her magazines.

"I knew you'd like it." he teased, astonished to realize that he was actually flirting with the human female. He hadn't ever flirted before in his life, but on the phone with Bulma, it seemed to come almost naturally.

"I do, as a matter of fact. So what'd they do? Stuff socks down there or what? 'Cause I've gotta admit, it looks like you've got quite the package in this picture." She said, trying to get a reaction out of him. 

"What exactly are you implying?" He sputtered, sitting up in bed with shock.

"Oh cut the crap Vegeta." She laughed, "you walk around my house in nothing but spandex! If you were that big, I'd have realized it."

"Woman…have you never heard of…well…protection of the genitals? You can't just…just leave them hanging out there in a fight!" He cringed at the thought of ever being kicked, punched or blasted in that overly sensitive area. "Of course you can't tell in fighting gear! You just don't allow something like that to…to…bulge out in a fight! It's dangerous!" 

Bulma flushed furiously, slapping herself for never having thought of the possibility that her spandex wearing houseguest may also be wearing a jock strap, or some sort of…contraption…to keep it all together.

"And what the hell are you doing staring at my crotch anyway?" He demanded.

"Curiosity." She choked out, mortified beyond belief. But if there was one thing Bulma Briefs knew how to do, it was bullshit her way out of an embarrassing situation. "So you're saying it's really that big?" She asked boldly, trying to control the squeak her voice took on when she was embarrassed. "No kidding?"

"Of course it is!" Vegeta roared. "You think I'd let someone manhandle me like that?" 

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I can't see you letting anyone get close enough to stick anything in there." She said. "Unless she was really cute, right?" She laughed, hearing him sputter in anger. "But you know, I betcha there are quite a few girls who'd like to get into your pants. You're pretty cute in some of these pictures."

Vegeta sighed, confused by Bulma's antics. He was immediately reminded of the 'porno' movie he had watched, and how the woman seemed to be enjoying it. But then again, the thought of a willing, responsive female was probably just an extra turn on for the men who would have watched those sorts of videos.

"Do women…do they really enjoy that sort of thing?" He asked, almost timidly.

"S…Sex, you mean?" She asked, startled. "Well, yeah, I mean, if the guy is good in bed and all."

"What constitutes as being good?" Vegeta persisted, desperately wishing to confirm his theory that all physical couplings were not like the ones he had experienced.

"Vegeta…why do you want to know all this?" Bulma shot back, flustered. "You don't have a…a girlfriend, do you?"

"Girlfriend? No, you're the only female I would consider even close to a friend." 

"No Vegeta I mean like…like…not a friend who's a girl…but like, someone you have…sex with." She said, inwardly pleased that he had practically just called her his friend.

"Ech, no!" He spat. "Why would you think such a thing?"

"Well you're asking me all these questions about sex and being good in bed and…I don't know!"

"I'm just…curious. Human sexuality seems very…different…from what I have experienced." His voice was soft, and the way he paused and said the words made Bulma nervous and concerned all at once. She had long known his childhood had been an abusive one, but was it possible that he had been sexually molested as a boy as well? She felt sick at the thought, and swallowed thickly, hugging her pillow tightly to her chest.

"Vegeta…what exactly is it that you've…experienced." She asked, cautiously, hoping she was wrong. He coughed a little on the other end, and was silent for a moment, before replying.

"I'd rather not talk about that." He murmured quietly, and Bulma's stomach churned. Vegeta didn't want to tell her what he'd done with Frieza's mindless harem girls. He didn't want to tell her that sometimes he had enjoyed it, that sometimes he still craved the physical release that came with it.

He heard her sigh on the other end, and imagined her pouting like she always did, or perhaps getting ready to try and force it out of him. "Well, I suppose I can't really force you to talk about it, can I?" She let out a false little laugh, "But maybe you'll feel comfortable enough to talk about it one day, ne?"

"I doubt it." He shot back, a little too quickly for his own liking.

"Okay…let's talk about something else then. How's Caleb treating you?" 

"Doesn't pay much attention to me." Vegeta snorted. "Not that I mind, of course. Poor fool man is so hung up over his little friend Bruce to notice anything else."

Bulma's eyes widened, and she sat up straighter in her bed, gasping quickly. Caleb wouldn't have told Vegeta about such a personal thing, which meant that the Saiyan had figured it out for himself. "Wh…what makes you think that?" she asked meekly, suddenly very nervous for Caleb. 

"I can tell." Vegeta shrugged to himself, picking a tiny fluff ball off of his blanket. "I'm surprised nobody's figured him out yet. Everyone in the building thinks he's straight. Even Bruce…but then again, Bruce isn't a terribly perceptive man."

"Vegeta, you can't tell anyone about this." 

"Why?"

"Vegeta, just please, don't let it slip out or anything. Caleb…he's…I…Oh, Vegeta, just please keep it to yourself."

"Why would I bother telling anyone?" The Saiyan snorted to himself, rolling onto his back. "It makes no difference to me."

"Just…just keep quiet, alright?"

"What is with you woman? I already said I wouldn't tell!"

"It's almost 1:00…" Bulma said softly, sounding almost regretful to Vegeta's ear, though still not answering his question. "I should probably go…I have to work early tomorrow. But I'll call you again soon, okay?"

"Whatever," he mumbled, feeling slightly disappointed that their conversation was coming to an end. 

Bulma smiled to herself, and muttered a soft "Good night," to which Vegeta grunted in reply. She hung up a moment later, replacing the cordless phone in it's cradle to recharge over night, and settled down under the covers, still hugging the pillow to her chest.

On the other end, Vegeta hung up as well, laying his cell phone on the bedside table. Shifting around, he pulled the black silk sheets over his body, pleased at the cool, smoothness against his skin. Bruce had picked them out, along with nearly everything else in the apartment, and the Saiyan found himself thankful to call the eccentric man his friend. Bruce had given him a job, found him a nice place to stay, and had helped the clueless man to find all the things he needed for his apartment. Bruce was a good guy, Vegeta knew, who was absolutely butt-crazy in love with Caleb. And thanks to Bulma, Vegeta knew his landlord felt the same way. His earlier statement had been a shot in the dark, and though he had had his suspicions, Bulma's reluctance to divulge the nature of Caleb's sexuality had proven them true. 

He rolled over, wondering how he could get the two of them together. Bruce's pining was getting really god damned annoying, as the older man was constantly gushing over their landlord to Vegeta, who did not particularly want to hear how cute Caleb's butt looked in a pair of khakis. He figured that if he could get the two together, or at least distract them or _something_, he would be spared the task of listening to Bruce's dramatic declarations of forbidden, undying love for the other man. Dealing with relationships was a subject Vegeta was definitely not fond of.

And then there was the part of himself that he refused to acknowledge, which wanted to see the two together because it would make people other than himself happy.

Vegeta snuggled under the blankets a little more, curling his body against itself, despite the heat. How in hell was he supposed to force Caleb and Bruce together? He didn't know even the smallest thing about Human relationships, especially male-male relationships. Things like that had not been openly discussed among Frieza's ranks, even though more than half of the soldiers had been using each other as replacements for women. The actual relationship aspect of such couplings was rarely even considered, but, through the rumor mills, Vegeta had heard of a few rare cases where men became emotionally attached to each other.

Of course, as a young boy, Vegeta himself had been somewhat attached to Nappa and Radditz, but only because of their Saiyan heritage, and the fact that they were the last of his race. The attachment had been that of Prince to subject, on a stretch, perhaps a friendship, but never had he entertained romantic thoughts about either of them. Thinking back, Vegeta had never really entertained romantic thoughts about anyone…except…

"Bulma…" he moaned softly, crunching his body tighter into its compact little ball. What was this strange feeling inside his heart, the strange flutter in his belly? The feeling felt remotely familiar, like something he had experienced a very long time ago, but he could not quite place where and when he recognized the light, airy sensation from.

It was a strange feeling, he noted, different from any other time. He felt…strange…strange, but not at all dirty. Dirty was something he was used to. Shame was a constant in his mind, but this new feeling was soothing and gentle. He didn't feel badly, like he was betraying Bulma's kindness for feeling such a way about her, like he usually did.

He stretched out, uncomfortable in his cramped position, and rolled onto his back, putting his arms up above his head, staring at the ceiling. He was uneasy with the fluttering stomach, and almost wished he were thinking dirty thoughts about the human woman, so he could at least feel bad about it…so he could feel something familiar.

Frowning, he flipped over and lay on his belly, burying his face into the pillows. Bruce's firm was doing another show, and he would have to be up early in order to get ready for it. It wouldn't do stay up all night thinking about a woman, especially one who was currently attached to a pathetic human male.

Okay! That's it for this chapter!! Hope you enjoyed that! And I hope Vegeta isn't getting too OOC…I'm trying to bring out another side of him here, because some of it is necessary to the story, but if it gets annoying, tell me and I'll try and tone it down, okay?

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Mp3 of the day: "Still Waiting" by Sum 41. I've had this song in my head for days now, but in a good way. I like it, you should listen to it! 

And I keep forgetting to say this, but if you'd like to be on my mailing list to get updates when I post stuff, just send a BLANK email tocat_girl_26-subscribe@topica.com or you can email my Hotmail address and ask me to send you an invitation. But don't send blank emails to my Hotmail address, or I won't know what you want!!! *giggle*


	11. Weak Heart

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

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Author's Notes: Okay, I just wanted to apologize for how incredibly late this chapter is. I had a really busy last week of school before the holidays, 'cause the semester will be ending soon after the holidays are over, so my teachers have all gone into major exam preparation mode, which is not fun. Then, because it is the holidays, we had family and friends visiting, and I'm sure everyone knows the kind of craziness and stress that can result from that. So, I haven't had much time to write, but I finally sat my ass down and got this thing done, so here we go! I hope you enjoy it!

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*Special thanks to ssjblackguy and Silver Sun for beta-ing*

11: Weak Heart

"Bulma, honey bunches of oats, how are you doing today?" Caleb crooned, gliding into her office and seating himself in the chair opposite her desk.

"Okay Caleb, what is it that you want? I know that tone of voice."

"Tsk tsk, Bulma. Not even a hello for your best buddy Caleb?" He teased, crossing his ankle over his knee. 

"Oh Caleb, I was ever so lonely without you here. Why, I'm so glad you've arrived." She looked pointedly at him, flashing a wonderfully fake smile and fluttering her eyelashes. Caleb snorted, and Bulma shook her head, a small smile curving her lips. "Now, what is it that you want?"

"I need a really, really super big favor from you Bulma."

"Shoot."

"Bruce's firm is doing another show tonight, and my parents have tickets. And you know what they'll say if I go alone. I'll have to sit there all night listening to them about what a shame it is that I don't have a girlfriend."

"Caleb, how's me being there going help? They know we're strictly friends, and besides that, don't they know I'm with Yamcha anyway?"

"But if you're there they won't subject me to the lecture. Please, please, please Bulma! I'll never ask you for anything ever again!"

"Caleb, you can't keep hiding this forever." She sighed, "Eventually, they're going to find out. It's a wonder they haven't already."

"You'll get to see Vegeta after the show." He prodded, secretly pleased at the light flush that colored her cheeks at the mention of his introverted tenant. "You'd like to see Vegeta, wouldn't you Bulma?" He asked again, "And I'm giving you a perfect excuse, so nobody will think it's too obvious."

"What do you mean, obvious?" She shrieked, blushing a deeper shade of red. 

"Bulma, I know you. I've known you since we were kids. You like the guy."

"What about Yamcha? I've got Yamcha."

"Hon, you told me yourself that Yamcha was getting, and I quote, 'Boring and blah.' Now, this does not sound like a statement of a woman in love. While, on the contrary, I have it on good authority that you've been calling Vegeta nearly every night for the past few days. Plus, the fact that you blush and stammer like a schoolgirl every time I so much as mention his name…"

"Caleb—" she started, but he cut her off again.

"Bulma," he took her hand, reaching across the desk. "Bulma, you're my friend, and I want to see you happy. Yamcha's a good guy. We both know that, but he's just not making you happy anymore."

"You're one to talk Caleb." She snapped back, pushing a loose strand of aqua hair behind her ear. "You've been butt-crazy in love with Bruce for over a year now, and you can't even admit it to anyone but me. Hell, you can't even admit you're gay."

"That's completely different and you know it." Caleb huffed, pulling his hand back and crossing his arms. "At least you don't have to worry about anyone hating you for the choices you make. You don't have to worry about your family and friends turning their backs on you because of who you love."

"Don't talk to me about that! You have no idea Caleb, no idea of how my friends and family would react if they knew I had even the slightest interest in Vegeta!" She jumped out of her desk, turning her back to him, trying to hide the sudden emotion in her eyes. 

"Bulma…"

"I don't even know why I'm acting this way…" she sniffled, feeling incredibly silly because of her irrational emotional outburst. "I…I don't know what to do. Before Vegeta left, I'd never given him a second thought. I mean, I always thought he was good looking and all that…but he was…he was just Vegeta. And now, I can't stop thinking about him. I was so happy with Yamcha, but now I can barely stand to go out with him. I…he kissed me the other night, Cay, and you know what I almost did? I almost whispered Vegeta's name! Can you believe that? I mean, I must be crazy."

"Bulma, you're not crazy." He placed a hand on her shoulder, having gotten up from his chair and moved around the desk. 

"Okay, not crazy…just weird then. I mean, it must be some sort of…of…I don't know. It's like I only want him around because he's gone now."

"Maybe that's true. But maybe it's not. Maybe you've liked him all along, and it just took his absence for you to realize. I mean, remember Bruce's old boyfriend, Randy?" She nodded, "When I first realized I liked Bruce, he was going out with Randy. He never had time for me, and I got really jealous. All I wanted was to be around him…I thought…I thought that it was just that, jealousy that one of my best friends had found someone else to hang around with. It felt like he didn't need me anymore. When they broke up, I thought it would go away, that things would go back to the way they were…but they didn't. I still felt lonely when he wasn't around, still wanted to be with him."

"So you don't think it's just a missing-him thing? You think I want to…to be _with_ him?"

"Bulma, it's pretty obvious…And hell, what could it hurt? You and Yamcha are going nowhere, and we both know you'll be miserable if you never give Vegeta a shot."

"I'll think about it." she smiled. "So, what time are you picking me up tonight?"

"I'm thinking, seven-ish." Caleb grinned back, pulling open the door to her office. He blew her a little mock-kiss, gliding out the door with all the grace of a swan.

"See you then!" She called after him, but there was no reply, so she flopped down in her chair, intending to get back to her mountain of paperwork. He probably hadn't heard her anyway, but she smiled nonetheless. Caleb had a knack for making her smile, always knowing the right words to say, the right things to do. But breaking up with Yamcha, just to take a chance at Vegeta was risky business. There was no way she could even tell whether the Saiyan thought of her in a romantic way at all! Would it be worth it, even if he turned her down?

"Why does life have to be so hard?" She moaned aloud, frowning at the framed snapshot sitting on her desk. Yamcha and herself, of course, smiling and looking happy for the camera. There had been a time when she was utterly content with life, completely sure that she and Yamcha would get married, have the typical 2.5 children, and live happily ever after. But Caleb's words rang true, she admitted. Things with Yamcha weren't all they used to be, and even if he did end up proposing to her, she wasn't sure she'd even say yes. Scratch that, if it weren't for her crush on the Saiyan, she'd have said yes, and pretended to herself and the rest of the world that everything was alright, that she was deeply in love, when really, she'd have been dying inside. "Yeah, like Yamcha'd ever get the balls to propose anyway." She snorted to herself. Long ago, the admission would have brought anger, frustration that their future dreams did not coincide, but she found herself grateful for her boyfriend's fear of commitment, glad that she would never have to turn down a proposal of marriage. It would have been too hard a thing to do. 

But the question of whether or not she wanted to call it quits for good was still looming over her. Maybe it would be a good idea to give it a little bit of time, figure out where she stood with Vegeta before throwing away over ten years with Yamcha. "Kami…has it really been that long?" She wondered, remembering her meeting with Yamcha, like it had happened mere moments ago.

Bulma Briefs, at the tender age of sixteen, had fallen in love with a desert bandit named Yamcha, who was deathly afraid of the opposite sex. She giggled, remembering the old days, gradually helping the poor boy get over his irrational phobia. And for so many years, they had been happy. Sure, there were the occasional fights, the on-and-off relationships, but still, she had been happy. Yamcha had always been good to her, even when she was jealously accusing him of dating other girls. With a wry smile, she thought to herself that it had not all been hearsay. He had never actually cheated on her, of course, but no one could tell her that Yamcha was not a flirt. Then again, she was quite guilty of that charge as well.

They had shared so many good times, and even though Bulma knew, in her heart, that they were no longer what they used to be, she was reluctant to let it all go. It was unfair of her, she knew, to tote him along under the pretense of a relationship when she was really pining for the surly Saiyan no Ouji, but as long as she remained faithful, it wasn't _that_ bad, was it?

"Miss Briefs," the intercom buzzed, sending Mrs. Briggins' voice through, "You have a call on line one. Shall I patch it through?"

"I suppose," she sighed back to the secretary, really not in the mood to talk business with anyone. 

"Bulma, babe!" Yamcha's voice burst through the phone as soon as she picked it up. "Right after work, I'll pick you up, and we'll go to a nice restaurant or something, just the two of us."

"Sorry Yamcha, I'm busy." She muttered, leafing through some of the papers strewn on her desk. "I promised Caleb I'd go see Bruce's show tonight." Yamcha was not exactly whom she wanted to see at that moment.

"Caleb can find someone else, can't he baby?" Yamcha pouted, making puppy eyes at the wall, as if Bulma were standing there with him.

"I…I promised Bruce too. He wants my opinion on his clothes," she lied quickly, "and he'll be really upset if I don't go." _And I won't get to see Vegeta…_her mind added, because there was no way she could say such a thing out loud.

"Bulma, I haven't seen you in a week now." He whined, and she sighed, almost caving at the pleading note in his voice. 

"Yamcha, I have other plans. If you wanted to go out, you should have called me sooner. I'm sorry, but I can't just drop everything because you want to go to dinner." She sighed, pulling out the document she had been searching for.

"Oh…" he said, dejectedly. "I guess I'll talk to you later then."

"Yeah, bye." _Tell him you want to break up. Tell him you never want to go out for dinner again, unless it's to meet his new girlfriend. Tell him it's not working out. Tell him you need something else, someone else._

She swallowed the lump in her throat, her lips parting; completely prepared to utter the words that would end their ten-year romance for good. And the dial tone blared unfeelingly into her ear.

Hanging up the phone, she groaned aloud, irritated by her own indecisiveness, and wondering whether she should call him back. With a shake of her head, she turned her attention to the safety report on Capsule Corporation's latest endeavor, glancing up at the clock once every five minutes or so. In two hours, she could slip out of the office, race home, and still have another two hours to get ready.

Bruce devoured his stir-fried beef with an intensity that rivaled that of Vegeta, who was currently polishing off his fifth egg roll. The designer was famished, having run errands all morning long, and Vegeta, well he was just Saiyan. 

"I looove Chinese takeout." Bruce cooed, popping a piece of broccoli into his mouth, wielding his chopsticks with expert skill. Several of the other models nodded, mumbling agreements around mouthfuls of noodles and rice. Vegeta didn't say anything, but just kept eating, much to the amazement of everyone but the Designer, who had shared a meal or two with the Saiyan before.

"Vegeta, I don't see how you stay so fit, eating all that food you do." Christian, another of the models, lamented, tossing his long blonde hair over his shoulder. Like most of Bruce's other models, he was tall and lean, kind of feminine in a mildly disturbing sense.

"Christian, he obviously works out. I mean, look at him! I wish I had that kind of self-discipline." Eikre laughed, poking his own muscled abdominal with one finger. He was another of the models, hired for much the same reason as Vegeta had been, but Eikre was taller, less toned, more like the guys they use for ladies' calendars. He had bragged to Vegeta about posing in the July issue of Playgirl, and even though Vegeta wasn't quite sure what that was, he figured it must have been something impressive, judging by Bruce's squeal of "O_h, I have that one!"_

Vegeta didn't mind Eikre though, because he knew a little something about working out, and he wasn't snooty and stuck-up like Christian and most of the other models. He wasn't a vacuous idiot either, and the whole reason he was modeling was to put himself through University. _"I'm gonna be an astronomer."_ He had said once, _"I want to study the stars, the planets, the Universe."_ Vegeta liked that too, about Eikre, he knew a lot about Space, and having grown up out there, the Saiyan was rather fond of it. And curiously, in a rare moment of friendliness, Vegeta had once asked Eikre why he was content to look up from Earth, rather than go out and experience the Universe for himself. _"Weak heart." _He had patted his chest, with a sad little smile on his face. _"They'd never let me up there."_ And the subject had dropped, just like that, but the two of them usually hung around each other during shows and photo shoots, each much preferring the company of the other in comparison with the other models. Actually, at first the Saiyan had been rather intent on keeping to himself, but the young, sociable human was unstoppable.

"Yeah, Vegeta here gets up early every morning and works himself to death in the park." Bruce chirped, slurping up some egg noodles. "But we can all see the benefits of that!" 

"Yep, Mr. September here has sure earned his title." Eikre teased, bringing up the _"Sexy Hunks Of All Seasons"_ calendar that they were both featured in.

"A little bit of jealousy, December?" Vegeta shot back, a cruel little smirk tugging at his features as he remembered the skimpy red Santa suit they had forced Eikre into. He had been lucky, being in September, all they had made him do was pose in a school uniform, open shirt, pants unbuttoned and hanging precariously low on his hips, with a few heavy textbooks under one arm.

"Oh, Vegeta, guess what!" Bruce cut in, "Caleb called me, and guess who he's bringing to the show tonight!" Vegeta looked at him curiously, one eyebrow raised, and before he could even take a guess, Bruce blurted out the answer. "BULMA!" He squealed, and continued on, oblivious to the Saiyan's sudden discomfort. "How long has it been since you've seen her? I haven't seen her in _ages_! Well, actually, it's probably more like a week, but she's such a sweetie, it just seems like years!"

"Ooh, who's Bulma?" Eikre chortled, nudging Vegeta in the ribs with his elbow. "I bet she's a real hottie."

"Bulma Briefs!" Bruce answered for his friend, and Eikre's eyes widened. 

"You know Bulma Briefs?" he gasped, turning toward Vegeta. "You mean, Bulma Briefs, who helps design spaceships and shit? Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"They used to live together." The designer supplied, and Vegeta scowled, glaring down into his fried rice as he fought to control his temper. He definitely did not appreciate the way Bruce seemed to enjoy broadcasting his personal life out to the entire world. Eikre, he didn't mind so much, but the others, they'd pry and dig up any dirt they could find on him, out of jealousy at his recent rise to fame.

"Drop it." He growled darkly, using his chopsticks to shovel a bit of the rice into his mouth. And that was the end of that conversation, everyone lapsing into an awkward silence as they finished the last of their lunch. There were still important preparations that had to be made before that night, so everyone was quick to scurry off and complete their allotted tasks, including Vegeta and Eikre, who had been assigned to assist in helping the stage crew put things together.

"I wonder where Bridget is off to these days." Eikre sighed wistfully, looking around the large hall the show was to be held in. "I wonder if she's sick."

"She could be dead, for all I care." Vegeta snorted, hefting a heavy light stand with one arm. "In fact, I think I would enjoy that a great deal."

"Aww, come on, so she's a little too flirty for your liking. Just deflect her off to me." He laughed softly. "I'd love it if she gave me all that attention. Hell, she thinks my name is Eric."

"Trust me, even you can do much better than a whiny little thing like her."

Eikre laughed, moving to give Vegeta a hand with the stand, even though he didn't need it at all. When the lights were finally in place, they moved backstage, to help finish setting up the changing stalls. 

Welp, there's another chapter done! Next time, we get to see Bulma and Vegeta meet for the first time in weeks, and we'll be getting into the movie soon enough! I know you guys wanted to see some B/V action in this chapter, but it was either cut it here or take way longer to get out…so I cut it. Sorry!!! Please don't be too mad!

Eikre- pronounced like ake-er. Or, I'm sure you all know how to pronounce the word _acre_, as in an acre of land. It's pronounced like that, at least that's how I think it is…

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Mp3 of the Day: Alright, let's go with a Dragonball song today! "Hitorijanai" by Deen. It's from DBGT, and I _think_ it might be one of the ending themes. I dunno, I really like this song, and you might too! Then again, you may not… but I'm willing to take that risk! *giggle*


	12. Thantastic!

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

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Author's Notes: Ahh, another long wait. Sorry guys! But I do have my reasons; those of you who know me better undoubtedly know how busy this month has been for me. (sooooo many tests…blargh) But hey! Bonus! I think this chapter might be the longest one yet! (lol, not by much though…) Bad News Bears strike again though, this evil month is not yet over, and now I have PDE's (Big fat exams that are worth 50% of my overall grade) so I have major studying to do, which means I don't know when the next chappy will be out. 

Oh, and sorry about the weird big spaces between paragraphs…I finally got my computer to save in .htm format again, but now it puts huge spaces between paragraphs…blargh.

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*Special thanks go out to Silver Sun for beta-ing!*

12: **Thant-astic!**

Vegeta groaned in frustration, attempting to squeeze himself into the constricting pair of leather pants. The concert hall was deathly hot, and the light sheen of sweat covering his body was causing the stupid pants to stick to him, making it nearly impossible to get them up past his muscled thighs. He cursed vehemently, grabbing a fistful of the smooth leather and yanking it upward, giving himself an awful wedgie in the process. Cringing at his own discomfort, he fixed himself and zipped up, then took a few steps around the room to let the pants mold to his body properly. 

"Vegeta, you almost done?" Bridget's voice sang through the door. Your agent is here to see you!"

The Saiyan grunted in response, pulling a tight, black, long sleeved mesh shirt over his head and looping a thick, studded black belt around his hips. He slipped his feet into a pair of heavy, black army-style boots and crouched down to lace them up before stepping out of the change-room door. Eikre stood outside, blushing bright red in his leather hot pants and mesh crop top. 

"This is so embarrassing." He muttered, wrapping his arms around his toned midriff. "Look at these boots Vegeta! I look like a friggin' dominatrix in these boots! Where's Bridget? She picks out what we all wear, right? I'm gonna kill her!"

"The first show I ever did, she tried to make me wear a studded leather thong." Vegeta countered, an amused grin on his face. 

"I may as well be wearing a thong!" Eikre huffed, "My ass cheeks are hanging way outta this!" He pulled the short shorts down a little, but to no avail, they inched up again the minute he moved. "Damn it…My frat buddies are never going to let me live this down." 

"So? Things could be worse." Vegeta chuckled, terribly pleased that Bridget had been smart enough to give him a decent outfit.

"How could things possibly get worse?"

"You could be Christian." He snorted, pointing toward the snooty model, who was dressed in what could only be described as a cross between pants and a thong. One leg was covered in tight black leather, while the other was left bare, the other pant leg having been cropped off just around the crotch. Eikre nearly burst out laughing as Christian turned his back to them, one pale cheek completely exposed to the world. "Bruce calls them _thants_."

"Ahh, Vegeta, you always know how to make the best of a situation." Eikre teased, grinning wickedly, "I'm going to go bug Christian." He set off, his heavy boots clunking on the floor, just as Vegeta felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Vegeta, Vegeta, Vegeta! Hun, you look great!" Shelly Garris-Hoderpesenburgh took in the Saiyan, the metal bangles on her wrists jangling together as she moved. "I just got a message from Ray! You remember Ray, right?"

"Of course I do." Vegeta snapped. How could he not remember Ray? Ray who had cast him to play one of the lead roles in a huge, big budget movie! 

"Well, he called me, and the studio has everything figured out for the movie. They want to start filming next week. Isn't that great? And oh," she continued on without giving him a chance to answer, "You'll never guess who I saw out there! Bulma Briefs! Can you believe it? I never figured she was really into high fashion. Never seen her at a show before."

"Yeah…" Vegeta murmured quietly, suddenly finding himself a little nervous. He hadn't forgotten that Bulma would be coming, but he hadn't really let himself think about it either, and now that the show was just about to start, he felt a little self-conscious; a feeling he despised.

"Well, I've got to be off!" She sang, completely oblivious to her client's discomfort. She sailed off, her bright, airy dress sailing behind her as she made her way out. "My husband's out there waiting for me!"

Vegeta turned immediately toward the small refreshment table by the dressing rooms, desperately needing a drink to cool his suddenly parched throat.

"Why, Bulma! How nice to see you." Caleb's mother smiled pleasantly at the young Ms. Briefs. "Caleb, I thought you said you were bringing a date." She said pointedly, her smile souring a little as she turned her gaze upon her son.

"I…I begged him to take me." Bulma interjected, trying to save her friend some embarrassment. "See, I know a few of the models and I really wanted to watch the show, but I couldn't get my hands on any tickets." She spouted, not feeling terribly bad because it was only a partial lie. "When Caleb mentioned he had tickets, I begged him to take me along." She smiled impishly, pretending to be embarrassed. 

The elder Mrs. Dios sighed irritably, pouting as she dabbed at her forehead lightly with a handkerchief. "It is rather hot in here, isn't it?" She said after a moment, changing the subject. "I wonder when the show will start."

"I think in about ten minutes, Mother." Caleb shifted uncomfortably in his chair, not relishing the idea of small talk with his mother. At least with his father, they could talk business or golf or something, but his mother always managed to steer the discussion toward her desire for grandchildren.

Backstage, Eikre was still at war with his hot pants, desperately trying to keep them from straying upward into his ass. "GOD DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!" He cried, yanking down the tight leather for the umpteenth time in five minutes. "SOMEBODY GET ME SOME FRIGGIN' DUCT TAPE!"

"Eikre!" Bruce gasped, shocked. "Don't you make me wash your mouth out with soap! That is just…just FOUL language! We don't need that kind of talk back here! This is supposed to be a happy place!"

"Hey Bruce! Mr. VanDios and his family have just arrived." Bridget cut in, winking at Eikre as he sent her at grateful look. Bruce tended to get really stressed right before a show, and as cheerful as he usually was, when he blew up, it wasn't pretty.

"Oh, really?" Bruce turned, his bubbly personality resurfacing as he allowed himself to be distracted. "Is Bulma with them? I should go tell Vegeta! He'll be happy to hear it!"

Bridget blinked, slightly confused. "Why would Vegeta care about Bulma Briefs being here?" She muttered to herself, not really meaning for anyone to hear.

"They used to live together. I think maybe they had a little something going on in the past." Eikre answered, nonchalantly tugging his hot pants down again.

"A…are you serious? Vegeta and Bulma Briefs? I always thought she was dating that baseball player…what's his name…Yamato…or something like that." Bridget was surprised, to say the least. Bulma really did not seem like Vegeta's type. Secretly, she had always imagined that the scarred man would have liked wilder girls. Then again though, it was not as if he had even ever given any outward indication of being attracted to anything except food.

"I'm not sure if they were actually, ya know, _together_, but Vegeta reacts awfully strange whenever anyone talks about her. Maybe they had some sort of hot, spicy affair. Or maybe it's some sort of unrequited love deal." Eikre looked around, hoping that Vegeta wasn't around to hear him, knowing the Saiyan would not enjoy any speculation about his personal life.

"Well, that's certainly a surprise." Bridget huffed, crossing her arms. 

"Oh, come on. You don't actually think you have a chance with him, do you?" Eikre asked innocently, not realizing how rude his question sounded.

"Wha…What do you mean?!? Are you implying that I am not good enough for him?" She hissed, trying to keep her voice down. It wouldn't do to embarrass herself in front of all the models. She was struggling to keep their respect as it was.

"Huh? No, no no! I totally didn't mean that!" Eikre spouted, mortified at his folly. "I meant…Bridget, Vegeta's…well, I dunno, he seems like a really complicated guy. I mean, he seems to have this…reluctance to get close to anyone. Especially women. Look at the way he acts around all the girls. It's almost like he isn't sure what to do with himself. He looks nervous or like, scared. It's really weird. I think something must have happened to him when he was younger."

"You…think so?" Bridget asked, never having realized how perceptive the handsome model was. Truth be told, she had always thought he was a little dumb.

"Yeah. I mean, you can tell just by looking at him, he hasn't had an easy life. And well, I mean, he kinda likes to do his own thing, doesn't much like orders. And to tell you the truth Bridget…you're kinda pushy. I think that unnerves him."

"PUSHY?!?!?" Bridget shrieked, terribly insulted. "Eric, how dare—"

"Eikre." He cut her off, briskly stepping away. "My name is _Eikre_."

"All right everyone!!" Bruce's voice cut through the crowd backstage. "Show's going to start in two minutes! I want all of you in your places! There are some very important people out there tonight so mess up, and I'll have your balls on a platter!" 

"We don't want to know what you do in your spare time!" A male voice chuckled, and a few of the other models giggled. 

"You're first on my list!"

Bulma shifted in her seat, playing with the hem of her little black dress. The music had just started, and the first model was strutting down the runway, doing her thing in a cut up leather cat-suit. "Bruce and his leather." She heard Caleb sigh beside her. "I tell you, Bulma, the man must have been a dominatrix in a past life."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Cay?" She whispered back, trying not to giggle as Caleb's cheeks flushed. "Aww, I'm just teasing."

"Well don't do it so loud." He hissed, glancing over to see if his mother had heard Bulma's comment.

"Oh yeah…sorry."

"Okay Vegeta, just work your magic. You look fantabulous." Bruce bubbled, smoothing the mesh shirt over the Saiyan's broad shoulders. Vegeta shrugged the other man's hands away, feeling almost bashful for the first time since his childhood. Bulma was sitting out there, two rows back from the end of the catwalk, three seats in from the aisle. Eikre had been kind enough to note her position while he was out in his short shorts, which he was gratefully changing out of at that very moment.

The Saiyan swallowed a lump in his throat and straightened his back, putting on the devilish smirk that had put him on the face of so many magazine pages. His cue came up, and he stepped out onto the runway, pausing so the people nearest to the curtains could see his outfit. Springing forward, he swaggered down the walk, his feet moving in time with the beat of the music. His body rippled and swayed as he moved, looking like he owned the very planet as his eyes raked the crowd, flashing his teeth for a camera here and there.

Bulma felt pinned to her seat as Vegeta's angular ebony eyes locked with her own. His smirk widened a little, giving her a small glimpse of his pearly white canine teeth, sharp and slightly elongated. She felt warm all over as his tongue ran over the pointed fang, his eyes still boring into her own. Her throat went dry though, as one eye closed in a flirtatious wink before he turned his back to her, strutting back toward the curtains from whence he came.

Vegeta gasped nervously as he locked himself in his changing stall, quickly pulling off his first outfit to pull on the next. Had he really done that? Good God, he had winked at her! What would she think of him now? He moaned to himself, running a quick hand through his hair. He was sweating lightly, from the heat the spotlights gave off, and he took a moment to give his torso a quick rub down with a towel before pulling on his next shirt.

Honestly, what had come over him? Flirting with Bulma had just seemed so natural! Hell, he hadn't even realized he was doing it until he stepped backstage, to be greeted by Bruce, who was practically pissing himself in excitement.

"That was absolutely fantasmal!" the designer had squealed, rushing Vegeta to his changing stall. "Even better than last time. I had goosebumps! Remind me to give you a raise!"

Bulma let out a small squeak as Caleb elbowed her in the ribs, grinning wickedly at her. "Why Bulma, if I didn't know better, I'd say there's already something going on between the two of you." He teased, his silky voice low, so as not to attract any unwanted attention from the various reporters and photographers in the crowd.

"You be quiet." Bulma glared at her friend, a delicate shade of pink staining her high cheekbones. 

"So what are you going to say to him backstage?" Caleb prodded, "Gonna tell him you like him?" he teased, drawing out the 'like' as if he were back in grade school, digging at a friend about cooties.

"Hell no! He'd probably start laughing at me or something." 

"Aww, judging by that flirty little wink, Bulma, I'd say his interest in you is a little more than friendly. That was pure, hot, raw emotion." Caleb's voice dropped to a low, husky note, and he fluttered his eyelashes at her. "Hot, animalistic passion." He whispered, a wicked grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Drama queen."

Vegeta sighed, grateful for the comfort of his own loose-fit khakis and form fitting red T-shirt. It was far too hot to be wearing leather, which, under Bruce's design, stuck to one's body like a second skin. He pulled on his favorite sneakers and met up with Eikre, who was also just emerging from the hastily erected changing stalls. 

"Not too shabby a performance, September." Eikre smiled, swinging his coat over his shoulder. "Guess what? Just after I come back from my last run, Bridget tells me she gave me the wrong size in those stupid shorts."

"I'm sure it was _purely accidental_." Vegeta snorted, sarcasm oozing from his mouth. 

"Nah, Bridget's too hung up on you to notice anyone else. She actually did think my name was Eric." Eikre sighed, bunching his coat under one arm after swinging it off his shoulder. "Ahh well, I caught that cute new Russian model eyeing me."

"Maybe she just has a thing for hot pants." The Saiyan quipped, unable to help himself. 

"You shut up. Hey, there's Bulma Briefs! Oohh, she's way prettier in person than she is on tv. Yow, baby, look at those legs!" He laughed, earning a death glare from Vegeta. "Oh yeah…sorry…Hey, introduce me, why don't you? Maybe she'll talk spaceships with me."

"VEGETA!!!" Bruce cried from where he was standing with Caleb and Bulma. "OVER HERE! BULMA'S OVER HERE!"

"Oh, for…" Eikre heard his companion mutter a soft curse under his breath.

"Hey." Bulma mumbled softly as Vegeta and the younger man joined the group. 

"Bulma, this is Eikre, another model in Bruce's company." Caleb nodded to the younger man, who immediately grabbed Bulma's hand, giving it a good, firm shake.

"Hi Miss Briefs, I'm Eikre Thomas, and I think you're brilliant." He blurted out, and Bulma giggled a little, embarrassed for the poor boy who was making a fool of himself.  


"No need to rip her arm off." Vegeta grunted, and Eikre blushed, dropping her hand and stepping away.

"You're very sweet, Mr. Thomas." Bulma smiled.

"Eikre's just excited to meet you." Bruce put in. "He follows Capsule Corp's work in space technology."

"Reporters at 12 O'clock." Caleb nudged his friend, who squealed with delight, scurrying off to talk to the media about his successful show. "Hey Bulma, you seen my parents around here anywhere? I lost them somewhere in the crowd. I should probably go find them." And the handsome blonde man strode away as well, sending Eikre a pointed look as he left.

"And I have to…Hell…I can't think of an excuse to leave, but I'll go anyway, so you two can have some privacy." Eikre winked, sauntering off to tease Christian about the 'thants' some more.

"Well…" Bulma mumbled, fiddling with her purse. "Subtle, aren't they?" She forced a nervous smile, earning a snort from Vegeta, who was glaring intently at the floor. "It's good to see you Vegeta…It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess." He found himself wanting to be closer to her, perhaps to touch her, to take in the sweet, familiar scent. She looked very pretty in her simple black dress and elegant diamond jewelry, with her hair all piled at the back of her head.

"You looked…really good out there. It's no surprise your face is all over the magazines." She smiled at him again, dazzling him with her radiance. "You're going to have to start beating girls off with a stick, probably guys too." She giggled, her nervousness abating a little more with every word. 

"It's not bad work." He shrugged. "Pays well, and gives me a lot of free time for training." 

"Once you start shooting that movie, your free time is going to go down the drain, you know. And people will be all over you."

The Saiyan shrugged again, shifting to stand in a more comfortable position. The friendly ease with which he used to talk to Bulma was gradually returning, and he felt more comfortable, less like a bumbling, pre-pubescent boy. "It's a good role. Very interesting. I like it. Besides that, if it does well, it'll pay back even better than this does. And you know me," he smirked, "I've never been one to turn down fame and practical worship."

Bulma laughed, realizing how true his statement was. "We should go somewhere…Like, out for coffee, or you can show me your apartment. I want to see it sometime. Caleb tells me it's nice." She let one cool hand rest on his muscled forearm, oblivious to the fact there were tabloid reporters galore, busily snapping pictures of her flirtation with the Saiyan no Ouji. 

"We usually all go out after a show…I'm sure Bruce'd love it if you came!" Eikre materialized out of the crowd, having lost track of his torture-target, Christian. "Didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help overhearing the conversation…and knowing September here, he'd never extend the invitation." 

"September?" Bulma questioned amusedly, looking from Vegeta to Eikre in hopes of an explanation. 

"Aww, he never told you? Calender shoot! You're looking at '_Sexy Hunks of All Seasons'_' Mr. September." Eikre teased. "It's a real good one. Go buy it. I'm December." He said proudly.

"Yeah, today wasn't his first time wearing hot pants. I'm beginning to think he enjoys that sort of thing." Vegeta snorted, crossing his arms and scowling.

"They made me wear 'em!"

"Wear what?" Bulma's curiosity was growing, and she couldn't help but giggle at the easy camaraderie she seemed to sense between the two men.

"Oh, just the skimpiest pair of red velvet, white fur trimmed hot pants you've ever seen." Vegeta said, matter of factly, rather enjoying the embarrassment the younger man was in. "Oh, quit being so embarrassed. You're the one that's telling her to go buy the damn calendar. She would have seen it anyway."

"I was hoping she'd be too busy staring at you, little mister deviant schoolboy." Eikre shot back. 

"I'd rather be that than Santa's_ special friend_!"

"Hey, are you guys coming out with us or not?" Christian's voice broke into the argument, and they turned to see the snooty model, thankfully having changed out of his thants and into something a little more conventional. "You're holding us all up."

"Fine, whatever." Eikre shrugged. "Come on you two, you know how Bruce gets without his post-show latte." Vegeta let a small smile pass over his features before following Eikre, who had already taken a few steps away. Without even thinking, he grabbed Bulma's hand, gently leading her through the crowded room toward where the other models waited.

Bulma shivered the instant Vegeta's warm hand touched her skin, and allowed him to lead her through the crowd. There was definitely something there…at least on her part anyway. Vegeta was still an unknown quantity, but one thing was for sure; Yamcha had to go, and the sooner, the better.

Okay, so apparently, Eikre's last name is Thomas, in honor of hot Thomas, who happens to be rather hot! *giggle* He looks like a real live anime character…*sigh* Too bad life isn't a Shoujo-manga, ne? If it were, it wouldn't matter that he's too old for me…

And Thants, the next fashion craze, ne? Whaddya think? *giggle*

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Mp3 of the Day: Okay, so I was trying to write an English final today, and this song kept running through my head, so I'm going with "Not Enough" by Our Lady Peace. Really good song! I command thee, heed my words! (Yeah, I'm weird, I know…*giggle*)


	13. Kiss

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

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Author's Notes: Hey all, sorry it's so late again; I'm sure you guys must be sick of waiting all the time. But good news! Stuff actually happens in this chapter, so hopefully that'll make up for it. 

To JAXINDUDE22: Okay, first thing I have to say is dude, why'd you bother reading the first 12 chapters before flaming? I mean really, judging by your review, I'm betting you didn't like it from the start! Second thing I have to say is please, for the love of God, start paying attention in English class. Other than that, have a nice day.

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*Special thanks go out to the beta team, Kat8125, Bulma Peacecraft, and Silver Sun!*

13: Kiss

The café was small and cozy, and several tables had been pulled together to join with a tiny cushioned booth in order to accommodate the whole modeling troupe and guests, such as Bulma and Caleb, whose parents had decided to go home early, on account of his mother's 'sudden' migraine. This was her way of covertly voicing her disapproval of her son's choice of friends. If she had her way, he would be sipping brandy in an overstuffed chair by a roaring hearth at the country club, a knit pastel sweater tied jauntily over his shoulders. Not less than ten feet away, she would be discussing baby names with her very pregnant daughter in law, while her other grandchildren played at their feet. 

But that was not to be. Instead, Mrs. VanDios was sitting at home with her pretend migraine, pouting, while her son was having the time of his life, sandwiched in the small booth between Bruce and Bulma, with his arms draped over their shoulders. "Ahh, my two B's…" he laughed, a little tipsy with excitement and good wine. His fingers brushed Vegeta's hard shoulder, and he chuckled again. "Oh, and I can't forget my V!" On the other side of the Saiyan, Eikre snorted, highly amused. It was rare that Caleb even spoke, and here he was, having a jolly good time.

"Don't touch me." Vegeta grumped, leaning away from Caleb's dancing fingers, and at the same time, away from Bulma, who he was squished up against in the small both. It was not his intention to move away from her, but his nerves were a little on edge. After all, there he was, squished against the woman that he had been having highly erotic dreams about, right after a silly, embarrassing fashion show, where he had smiled, flirted, and even winked at her without even realizing he was doing it. Gods of Vegetasei, what a position he was in.

Hearing a tiny sigh, Vegeta's glance shot toward Bruce, who was gazing covertly at Caleb, a slight blush on his cheeks. Bruce had been drinking only non-alcoholic beverages, so it was not a drunken flush. Vegeta smirked a little, sensing the humor in the situation. The two of them were completely, totally, crazy for each other…but neither of them could ever admit it to the other. Caleb, with all his fear about coming out, and Bruce, of course, could not admit to his 'straight' friend that he was in love with him! Oh, it was deliciously funny to the Saiyan, who elbowed Bulma in the ribs.

"Ouch, why'd you—"

"Shh," he cut her off, "look." He gestured toward Bruce, trying not to draw any attention from the rest of the group. He watched as her eyes widened, and she turned toward him, slack jawed. 

"Vegeta," she hissed, inching closer to whisper in his ear. "You know what this means, don't you? We have to get them together somehow!"

"Oooh, look who's getting frisky in the corner booth!" Christian's voice rang out, his finger pointing at Bulma and Vegeta. "Whispering sweet-nothings to each other. I bet you two are just itching to get out of here and into somebody's bed!" He cackled at Vegeta's shocked expression, glad for the opportunity to embarrass the new star.

"What's the matter pretty boy?" Bulma purred, pressing closer to the Saiyan, her fingers stroking a path up and down his chest. "Jealous?" Her tongue darted out to wet her lips in a very obvious maneuver, before her mouth found his ear again. "Just go with it, okay? Just follow my lead." She whispered, before nipping the sensitive lobe.

Vegeta, never one to suffer through public humiliation, reacted quickly, surprising everyone at the table as one hand boldly encircled Bulma's trim waist, pulling her closer, while the other ran slowly up and down her creamy thigh, exposed by the short dress she wore. He bent down over her, gently nuzzling her neck as he plucked Caleb's arm up off her shoulder, tossing it away. His gaze stayed trained on Christian, challenging the gawking man with his ebony eyes, as he nipped her neck ever so gently. It was something he had seen on 'Nights of Fire,' one of the late night porno movies they showed on his television. Bulma gasped, a sharp little intake of breath, and he felt her shiver against him. A soft moan escaped her lips as her fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt, the other hand grasping his wrist, coaxing his warm hand further up her thigh.

"Alright, alright! Cut it out you two! You're making the rest of us jealous!" Eikre shouted, snapping the two apart. Vegeta scowled and let out a hostile little growl, but pulled away and sat back in his seat. He was almost glad for the intrusion though, as the closer his hand got to the hem of her dress, the more nervous he became. He was sure she would have noticed the slight shaking of his hand as it slid up her creamy thigh, but Bulma, however, didn't say a thing as she snuggled under his arm, smiling sweetly over at Christian.

"Oh man, Vegeta, did you see his face?" Bulma crowed sliding into the backseat of Caleb's car. "It was priceless! He was all like 'huh' and we're just all like 'oh yeah' and oh my god! That was hilarious!"

"Bulma B's getting the midnight giggles again!" Caleb chuckled from the front passenger seat, where he was strapped in, still slightly tipsy. They had tried to make him ride in back, for safety's sake, but he had stubbornly insisted on riding up front with 'Brucey,' who had been unable to refuse. "Never fails! Any time she's even remotely happy at midnight, she gets all giggly and ditsy."

"I do not! At least I'm not drunk!" she shrieked back, punching him lightly in the shoulder from behind.

"I'm not drunk, my dear, just a wee bit sotted."

"Look at that," Bruce snorted, "He's even eloquent when he's smashed." The Jaguar started with a rumble as Bruce guided the expensive car out of the parking lot. 

"Careful with my car, I love him almost as much as I love you, Brucey." Caleb giggled, leaning back in the seat, one hand reaching over to the designer's shoulder. He laughed again, drunkenly, and Bulma watched the rearview mirror as Bruce's face soured.

"You shouldn't say things like that when you're drunk." Came the snapped reply. "I should ram this car into that wall over there, just to teach you a lesson." 

"Hey," Bulma piped up from the back seat, trying to distract the tight-lipped Bruce from his irritation. "Forget about dropping me off at home, okay? I want to see Vegeta's apartment, and then I'll just crash on Cay's couch. Besides, someone should be around to look after him and to make sure he doesn't drown in a pool of his own vomit or something."

"I am not nearly drunk enough to throw up…but you're welcome to sleep over if you like. Just don't eat all of my good cereal in the morning." 

Arriving back at the apartment, Bruce volunteered to sit with Caleb while Bulma checked out Vegeta's new apartment. "You know, woman, he really doesn't need to be watched. He's not nearly drunk enough to hurt himself." Vegeta muttered, unlocking his door and stepping inside.

"I know," Bulma smiled, following him and shutting the door behind herself, "I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you." She watched as he shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it onto the expensive leather couch. He didn't say a word, just looked at her a little strangely, almost nervously, before trudging off to the kitchen to grab a drink. "Get me something too, will you?" she asked, following him. He tossed her a juice-box, grabbing two for himself. "Pineapple Punch." She read the label, suppressing a giggle.

"Shut up. Tastes good." The Saiyan grunted, plopping down on his couch. Again, she followed him, curling her legs up on the couch.

"I still can't believe you're a model." Bulma laughed softly after a moment. "I mean, I can picture you as a lot of things, but I never figured you'd go for modeling."

"I've done a lot of things in my life out of necessity rather than enjoyment." Vegeta looked away, his eyes focussed on a spot on the wall as he forced disturbing images from his mind. He continued speaking after a moment, his voice taking on a lighter tone. "Besides, it could be worse. The job is easy, it pays well, and it still gives me a lot of spare time to train in."

"Truthfully, I figured you probably would have just blown a few people up, maybe stolen their money. I wasn't quite sure you'd know what to do about finding a job."

"A life of petty crime is not for the Saiyan no Ouji. And besides that, how could I possibly hope to fulfill this challenge you have set in such an underhanded manner?" 

"Challenge?" Bulma asked, puzzled.

"Hn. I specifically remember you saying I would not be able to last in your pitiful little human society without my superior strength and power. I fully intend to prove you wrong."

"Vegeta, are you serious? I didn't mean it to be a challenge."

"It was one, nonetheless, and, little woman, a Saiyan never backs down from a challenge." He straightened himself, the regal bearing coming back, and Bulma could not help but to respect him, even as he sat in a sweater and jeans, sipping on a Pineapple Punch juice-box.

"Consider it revoked then." 

"You can't just take back a challenge like that."

"I already told you, it's not –" She was cut off as Vegeta laid two fingers gently over her lips, stunning her into silence.

"Call it what you will, but the fact is that I have been reliant on your hospitality for too long. As such, my honor dictates that I am indebted to your family, which is a position I do not find myself enjoying. This is not only for you, but for me as well, because I do not intend to spend the rest of my life dependent on humans." His voice was calm and controlled, but Bulma could sense the underlying note of bitterness in his tone. Had things turned out differently, he would be commanding entire planets, possibly ruling the entire universe, and not subjected to the 'humiliation' of living on Earth and becoming dependent on her.

"Is that what everything boils down to Vegeta? The fact that I'm a human and you're a Saiyan?" She asked, dejectedly.

"Does the truth upset you?"

"Yes! Damn it Vegeta, all I want is for you to even consider that we aren't so bad!"

"Humans, as a general race, are weak, petty, pathetic creatures. That much I have seen in my short stay here." Vegeta snorted, though a twinkle of amusement sparkled in the onyx depths of his eyes. "But I will admit that some humans are far better than the general populous." That said, he stood, grabbing her arm and pulling her up off the couch as well. 

"Wha?"

"You wanted to see the apartment, did you not?" He asked, desperate to forget the fact that he had practically just complimented her. "You've seen the living room and kitchen; the bathroom is down here," he led her down the hall, allowing her to peer into the neat, clean room. "Spare room," he pointed to a closed door, "and bedroom. That's it." 

"Lucky you became a model instead of a tour guide." Bulma muttered, pushing her way into Vegeta's bedroom. "The whole point of a tour is to let people see where you live. Ooh, are these real silk?" She fingered the black sheets, shivering at the deliciously smooth feel of the silk against her skin. "This is way nicer than my bed." She pouted, crawling up and sprawling herself out across the mattress as Vegeta watched intently. She was still wearing the tiny little dress, but it had ridden up her thighs a great deal, and one strap had slipped down off her shoulder.

Bulma squeaked in surprise as Vegeta's face appeared above hers. She felt the mattress depress as he climbed up, kneeling beside her. She felt her breath catch as his gaze caught hers, boring into her with an intensity she had never felt before. Sitting up on her knees, she faced him, and was not surprised to find that her face was inching ever so slowly closer to his. Vegeta was not quite sure to do when he felt her soft lips touch his. All the porno movies in the world could not have prepared him for the actual thing, and he found himself nervous again, like he had been in the café, but even more so. This time, she wasn't putting on an act. She wasn't teasing or playing, and they were all alone in his room, on his bed, for Kami's sake! 

He felt Bulma shift, sitting her body on his lap, her legs spread to straddle him. Her dress rode up to her hips, exposing a great deal of flesh, and he couldn't stop his hands from touching her, trailing from her knees, up her thighs to her hips. He had never kissed before, but was quickly getting the hang of it, his lips dancing with Bulma's, opening as her tongue slipped into his mouth. She ground her hips down against his and heard him groan, feeling his body stiffen beneath her.

__

Gasping for air, Vegeta felt his young body tighten and relax completely as he spilled himself into the limp body beneath him.

"Vegeta?" Bulma asked, confused as to why he had stopped responding to her kiss. He had gone still suddenly, and his breathing grew shallow. She was unnerved by the glassy look in his eyes, distant and unfocussed.

__

"Done so soon" Frieza cackled, kicking the poor girl in the stomach as Vegeta watched, embarrassed at his poor performance.

She felt his arms tighten around her, his fingers squeezing her flesh as his entire body tensed, every muscle coiled and ready to spring.

__

"For your own pride and reputation, monkey Prince," Zarbon's smooth voice grated against the young Saiyan's ears, "I do hope you never take it upon yourself to actually try to please a woman." 

"Vegeta please, what's wrong?" Bulma cupped his cheek in her palm, watching in relief as his eyes focused on her, flickering over her face in that unnerving way of his.

"You…" his voice was suddenly thick, and he had a hard time forcing the words out. "You should go." He looked away as he pushed her off his lap and back onto the bed, quickly standing and moving away toward the door.

"I guess…if that's what you want…" she said softly, dejectedly, as she pulled the skirt of her dress down to a decent level and inched off the bed, not quite trusting her wobbly limbs. "I should probably go make sure Caleb's alright and stuff…" Vegeta didn't say anything as he led her to the out, scowling at the floor the whole time, but the minute he locked the door behind her, a hearty string of curses came tumbling out of his mouth.

"Fuuuuck…" he moaned, throwing himself onto the sofa, nearly tipping it over backwards with the strength of his dive. What the hell had happened back there? "Just great…" he cradled his head in his palms, the weight suddenly too much for his neck to bear alone. "I am a fucking idiot…"

Why, why, WHY had his brain chosen THAT moment to bring up the past?

"Caleb, you in here?" Bulma asked, stepping into her long-time friend's apartment. A mumble came from in his room, and she peeked in to see him sprawled across the covers, still fully dressed, including his shoes. His eyes were a little dazed and there was a silly little smile adorning his normally stoic features.

"Did you see Bruce on the way out?"

"Yeah, he looked kind of upset…what'd you do to him?"

"Oh, nothing." Caleb laughed, winking at her, then muttered, "Nothing he didn't enjoy, that is…" Bulma looked questioningly up at him as she pulled off one of his shoes, but he pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to tell.

"Whatever, you can tell me in the morning when you're sane again," she laughed, pulling off the other shoe and yanking the covers up over him. She left then, flicking off the light and closing the door behind her so that Caleb would be able to sleep off the alcohol in his body. But sleep would not come to Bulma just yet.

What the hell had gotten into Vegeta back there? One second he was all over her, and the next, he had gone all spacey and pushed her away. He had looked troubled, like something serious was bothering him, and the way he refused to look at her definitely signaled that something was amiss. Vegeta, the Saiyan Prince, full of pride and confidence, would never, ever turn his eyes to the floor like that. 

"Something is definitely bothering him." She affirmed out loud, feeling much more confidant that it was not her fault he had pushed her away. Of course something had to be bothering him! If not, it would mean he didn't want her like she wanted him, and that was not something she wanted to consider. "What is it though?" Bulma shivered, recalling the feeling of his hands on her body, the tentative, almost shy, way he had kissed her. She bit her lip gently, holding the skin between her teeth as she reached for the phone.

One ring…two rings…three rings…four rings…She sighed, about to hang up when she heard a grumbling, tired voice at the other end of the line. A mumbled "Hello?" hit her ears and she took a deep breath, cradling the phone against her ear, trying to think of what she would say.

"Hello, Yamcha? It's Bulma…We need to talk."

Oooh! See, I told you things happened in this chapter! *giggle* Anyway, hope you enjoyed it! If you have any questions/comments, just click the review button below!

If you'd like to be on the update mailing list, please send a BLANK email to

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cat_girl_26-subscribe@topica.com 

If you wanna talk to me though, send to cat_girl_26@hotmail.com

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Mp3 of the Day: "You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet" by BTO. My grad class voted on our grad song Thursay, and this song came in second…which is a damn shame because now we have "Graduation" by Vitamin C. Not a bad song, but talk about corny…bleh.


	14. Freedom's Price

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

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Author's Notes: I had something I wanted to say…but now I can't remember it, so it couldn't have been that important…lol…I'll probably remember about 5 minutes after this chapter is posted…

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*Special thanks to Kat8125, and Silver Sun for beta-ing*

14: Freedom's Price

Yamcha breathed a long, low sigh as he hung up the phone, a little in shock at the conversation that had just taken place. "So that's it, I guess…" he murmured to himself. That was it. He and Bulma were officially over. It hadn't been at all like he'd expected it to be. 

There was no fooling himself, he'd known it had been coming for a long time, and while he was almost afraid at the thought of ending the ten year relationship for good, he felt a little giddy at his newfound freedom. Sure, he and Bulma had broken up before, and each time he had thought it would be permanent, only to find himself back in her arms the next week. This time, it was different. Something deep in his gut told him that there was no going back this time. It was final. It was the end of what had probably been the best ten years of his life. 

"But everything has to end sometime, doesn't it?" He asked himself, peering out at the cityscape from his window, full of twinkling lights, like stars in the night sky. The digital clock on his bedside table blared 2:25am in garish red numbers, shining through the darkness. "Yeah, everything ends eventually. Even if it goes on all your life, you have to die some time." He nodded in the dim light, a passive bob of his head, and sighed again. 

It wasn't that he was upset over losing her. He had known for a long time that what they had was not the real thing; not real love. He had been content to pretend though, even if only for a while. But his biological clock was ticking; he wasn't getting any younger, and the instinctual urge to produce offspring had begun to tickle the back of his mind, always sitting on his subconscious, teasing him with its baby cute features. He wanted children, and he wanted a wife, a woman he could love forever. Bulma was not that woman. He didn't know where to find that woman.

He didn't even know if she existed.

Yamcha pulled his bedcovers back over himself, resting his head on an old pillow, flattened with use. He wondered what had spurred Bulma's sudden decision. It must have been big though, he reflected, for her to have called him so late. At first he thought that perhaps his girlfriend was giving him a booty call, to make up for spurning him earlier, when she had refused to break her plans with Caleb for a quiet dinner with him, but was soon proven wrong, with the soft, somber tone of her voice. 

It was strange, the way she went about ending their relationship…it had been just like another conversation; a serious conversation, but a normal, everyday one, nonetheless. No crying, no yelling; no emotion whatsoever. Sure, he could sense a tinge of regret in her voice, but it obviously hadn't been enough for her to consider changing her mind. 

He wondered, briefly, if she had met someone else. With her social life, it was a wonder she hadn't met someone long before. But then again, Bulma had somewhat of an exotic taste in men. She had a knack for finding the really special ones. He felt almost honored that she had stayed with him for so long, when really, she could have had virtually any man on the planet. 

With a shrug and a sigh, Yamcha rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillows. It was late, he needed sleep, and there would be plenty of time in the morning to think about Bulma's sudden decision.

Bulma awoke the next morning with an awful kink in her neck. She hadn't slept well, with a torrent of confusing thoughts rushing through her head, and had lain awake on the couch for much of the night, trying to get comfortable but feeling too restless to stay still for more than three seconds at a time. "Damn it…" she hissed, rubbing at her neck with the palm of her hand, trying to work the ache out. 

"Bulma," Caleb's voice rang out from the tiny apartment kitchen, "I think you need to come in here." 

Puzzled, she straightened her clothing and ran a hand through her hair, while stumbling tiredly past the couch and into the kitchen, where Caleb sat with the morning paper and a cup of coffee. He looked a little bleary eyed, his pallor a little strained, due to the previous night's drunkenness, but that was all, and she cursed him for it. Caleb VanDios, ever the morning person.

"What do you want?" She asked, her throat feeling scratchy and thick. He held up the morning paper. "Oh shit…"

Yamcha poured himself a cup of coffee, and grabbed his morning paper, after checking on Puar, who was still soundly asleep. Seating himself at the table, his eyes focused on the front page, and widened with shock. Right there, in full color print was a picture of Bulma, holding hands with none other than the Saiyan no Ouji, as he led her through a packed crowed of people. 

The caption beneath the picture read: "Bulma Briefs (right) Vice President of Capsule Corporation, and male model Vegeta (left) hold hands after showing of Bruce Hoffman's 'Leather and Lace' collection. Full coverage on B5."

Yamcha blinked, slowly taking a sip of his coffee, all the while staring at the picture, more specifically, focusing on the place where soft, delicate ivory skin met rough, olive hide. Their hands were locked together, in a gesture so natural that he couldn't help but to be jealous. 

Why, why, _why_ did it have to be _him_? 

Vegeta was interrupted from his training by the shrill ring of his cell phone, set to play the least annoying ring he could find. Unfortunately, it was still pretty irritating. He scowled, stopping in the middle of his kata to answer the annoying contraption. 

"Speak," he demanded, one hand on his hip while the other held the phone to his ear. His bare chest shone in the sunlight with a thin sheen of sweat, attracting stares from the usual crowd of onlookers. 

"Vegeta?" Shelly Garris-Hoderpesenburgh's voice grated, "Vegeta, have you seen today's newspaper? If you haven't, go get a copy right now!"

"Why?"

"Just do it!" came the screeched reply, and Vegeta rolled his eyes, but dutifully walked to the nearest paper vendor, and pushed the required amount of coins into the little yellow machine. Pulling out his paper, he unfolded it, and blinked. "Well?" Shelly's voice demanded, obviously eager to know the details.

"…So what?" Vegeta managed after a moment, calmly walking back to where he had been working out. Inside, he was a raging torrent of thoughts and emotions, but uncertainty reigned, and out of a long standing habit, he pushed anything that could be perceived as weakness down, forcefully adopting a façade of nonchalance. 

"So you've got your name, and HAND linked with one of the richest, most famous women on Earth!"

"Look," He began, his voice edged with a sharp, warning growl. She persisted, however, poking and prodding as was in her pushy nature.

"Seriously Vegeta, if you two are some sort of item…I can definitely work with this! Bulma's got connections, my boy! And imagine the publicity, why—"

"It's not for fucking publicity!" He exploded, cutting her off, "If there is something between Bulma and I, it stays between Bulma and I, do you understand? I'll not sink to using _her_ name to raise my status!" The thunder in his voice drew stares from several onlookers, many of whom stopped what they were doing just to listen. Great, as if he hadn't already drawn enough attention to himself for one day. He sent a nasty glare toward the crowd, and was rather pleased at the stricken looks on several faces staring back at him.

"Vegeta, I really don't see what the big deal is…"

"Do not push me on this. I'm serious. If you _ever_ dare to drop her name in dealings concerning me, you _will_ regret it. I promise you that. I don't need to be associated with her to get somewhere on this mud ball planet." A dangerous, quiet tone, so close to the edge of madness it made Shelly's skin crawl. She let out a little squeak of affirmation, before the line went dead. 

Snarling to himself, Vegeta tossed the cell phone into his bag and attempted to calm his mind, in order to resume training. God damnable woman, that Bulma was! Everyone seemed to think he needed her help! Well he didn't! He'd been doing just fine until she sauntered back into his life, not that she'd ever _really_ left it, but still! He was the Saiyan no Ouji, and he'd be just fine!

Striking out with a vicious kick, he resumed his kata, faster and harder than before. He had to stay in shape, had to keep working himself, every free minute he had, and with the movie filming set to begin in a mere few days, those free minutes would grow sparse in no time. 

It was worth it, however, to Vegeta, in order to prove himself to the weak little blue haired woman. She would eat her words with that pretty little mouth of hers, and would finally have to admit to him that he was not just the unruly brawn she thought him to be. Of course, if he weren't so stubbornly set on his task, he would have realized that she had accepted him long before, as much more than that. 

The movie role, much to his surprise, had captivated him more than he liked to admit though, and he found himself thinking that he might very well enjoy the experience of acting professionally. He was to play the Prince of Darkness, Lord of the Underworld, ruler of all things dark and devilish; in short, he was to play Satan.

Well, not quite Satan, he amended to himself, but a man who was unwittingly a pawn in Satan's game, who ruled the underworld for the crafty devil, in order to exact revenge on his enemies, and find a lost love of centuries ago. 

The character he was set to play was very interesting, sentenced to death in the 1600's, for a murder he did not commit, the murder of a queen, and the woman he loved. It was her husband, the King, who was to blame, and Vegeta's character, in the face of death, unwittingly made a deal with the devil, in return for the chance to exact revenge for his love's death, and to find her reincarnation, and be with her. He was a tortured character, ridden with guilt over her death, for she had died in order to protect him, and he was driven very nearly mad by the reality of his Hell. Yet his love and devotion for one woman drew emotion from even Vegeta's heart, and even the cold Saiyan felt remorse for the writer's creation.

Not to mention the fact that it struck him a little closer to home than he would ever admit.

Bulma groaned, staring at the paper, and knowing Vegeta would not be pleased, nor would Yamcha, or any of her friends, aside from perhaps Goku, who seemed to be awfully upset that his Prince had moved away from Capsule Corporation. As if on cue, her cell phone rang, and she cringed, instinctively knowing exactly who it was.

"Bulma! What the hell is this?" Yamcha's irritated voice blared in her ear, angry and hurt.

"I'm guessing you've gotten today's paper then?" She sighed heavily, shuffling over and grabbing herself a mug from Caleb's cupboard. Pouring herself some coffee, she sent a helpless look toward her friend, who only shrugged and cast her a look of sympathy.

"Give the lady a prize!" Yamcha growled, "Want to tell me what this is all about?"

"He was pulling me through the crowd so we wouldn't get separated. Neither of us even thought about it Yamcha." 

"Obviously that's not all, seeing as you just felt the need to break up with me at two freakin' thirty in the morning!"

"You seemed just fine with it then!" Bulma countered, plopping down on the couch where she had slept. She really did not want to deal with him at that moment, but she resolved to get it over with, since there was really no way she could get out of it.

"That was before I thought there was something going on between you and _Vegeta_!" He spat the Saiyan's name out like a curse, and suddenly, Bulma found herself becoming quite angry with him.

"What difference does it make who I have an interest in? It's obviously not you, so stay out of it!" she hissed nastily, wanting to cut him down with her remark.

"Bulma, it's _Vegeta_, do you hear me, VEGETA! You shouldn't be involved with him at all! He's dangerous! I mean, inviting him to live in your house was bad enough, but now I find out there's some sort of secret _thing_ going on between the two of you?" He raged, "Really Bulma, I thought you were smarter than that."

"I was stupid enough to spend ten years with you, a stupid, self involved, weak coward! I don't think I can do any worse!" She snapped, feeling a very real desire to hurt him. "I've got to go now. Stay out of my love life. Actually, just stay out of my life altogether." She muttered, hanging up the phone, and feeling the tears begin to prick at her eyes.

"You okay Bulma?" Caleb's voice, soft and concerned, caused her to burst into tears.

"See? I told you!" she blubbered, between sobs, "I told you everything would be a mess if I got involved with him." She grabbed a Kleenex from the box on the coffee table and dabbed at her eyes, wiping away the tears. "My friends will all be mad at me now, and frig, I don't even know if there is anything between us!"

"Shush, honey, shhh, don't cry." Caleb cooed, trying to soothe his long time friend. "I've seen the way he watches you, Bulma, there's definitely something there, sweetness." He sat down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "What is it about you and me, huh? We always have the worst trouble with men." He quipped, and she couldn't help but giggle, hearing the smooth masculine voice moan about boy-trouble. "Everything will be okay. You'll see, Bulma, you'll see."

"Damn, Caleb, what is it with me lately, always bursting into tears? I feel like such a baby."

"I dunno, PMS?"

"Asshole…" she muttered, and he laughed, hugging her close. 

"Ahh, there's the feisty girl I know."

Goku couldn't help but to grin as he looked at the front page of the paper. Gohan was reading the world and business pages, and Chi Chi only ever looked at the home section, so that left the entertainment section to him, and plastered over the whole page was a picture of Bulma and Vegeta holding hands. He didn't bother to read the article, full of speculation about the nature of their relationship; all the proof the big Saiyan needed was right in front of him. 

At first, it had seemed to him that if Vegeta moved out of Capsule Corporation, he might never get together with Bulma, as Trunks had predicted, yet it appeared that he was wrong, and that their separation was allowing them to progress into possible couple-hood. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder!" he mumbled to himself, his grin widening with pleasure.

"What was that, Goku?" Chi Chi's voice asked, soft and pleasant in the calm atmosphere. It always put her in a good mood to see Gohan reading or studying.

"Umm…Instance in shopping mart grows hotter. I, uh…I was just reading the headline out loud. Sorry Chi!" He bumbled, trying to cover up what he was reading. Chi Chi, he knew, would not be nearly as pleased as he, to discover the possibility of a budding romance between Bulma and Vegeta. She held a grudging sort of respect toward the Saiyan Prince, but in no way did that mean she liked him, and wanted him anywhere near her friends and family.

"That's alright sweetheart. Just don't disturb Gohan-chan!" she smiled, looking over at her son, who the held up the business section in front of his face as he read. Little did she know that he actually had the comic page hidden inside. 

Bruce sat down with his coffee, smoothing his silk robe as he opened the morning paper. "Oh my jibblies!" he squealed aloud, nearly spilling the hot coffee on his lap. "Oh! This is so exciting! Aww! Holding hands! How cute! Oh, I could just die! I can't believe it!! Oh wait! Yes I can!" 

He was happy for them, genuinely happy, and the emotion was strong enough to curb the melancholy funk he had been in since the previous night, after dropping Caleb off. What had happened between them…the kiss…he didn't know what to do. It was nice to have something else to think about.

And there's the end of that chapter!! I don't really know how long the next one will take…I seem to be having Writer's Block problems so it may take a while… 

If you'd like to join the update mailing list, please send a BLANK email to 

cat_girl_26-subscribe@topica.com

If you'd like to talk to me, send to cat_girl_26@hotmail.com 

****

Mp3 of the Day: "Night of Fire" from the anime Initial D. Sorry I don't know the artist's name, but it's real easy to find with the anime name. Anyway, it's a really upbeat dance kind of song; everytime I hear it, I can't help but to move around in my chair in a pathetic attempt at dancing…lol. 


	15. A Royal Love Affair

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

****

Author's Notes: Alrighty! First, I just wanted to thank everyone for being so kind and patient about the writer's block and the time it took to get this chapter out! I really appreciate it!!

And the second thing on today's agenda! Through the ole' fanfiction grapevine it's come to my attention that some readers are getting rather impatient for the lemon. I assure you, it will come, but as unreal as it may be to have Vegeta working as a model, I'd like to keep Bulma and Vegeta's relationship somewhat believable, and given the circumstances I've created for the couple, there's no way they're just going to hop into bed right away. So the lemon will come when it's time. I hope you guys'll stick around until we get there! 

****

*Special thanks to Bulma Peacecraft, Kat8125, and Silver Sun for beta-ing*

15: A Royal Love Affair

Vegeta winced, cringing as the piercing wail of sirens assaulted his ears. Looking out the window, he watched as an ambulance whizzed by in a flash of red and white. His curiosity piqued, he stepped out of his trailer and sauntered over to the expansive ballroom set, where a crowd of people had gathered to watch as Delaney Ritton, the supporting female character, was loaded into the ambulance, moaning with the pain of a broken leg.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!!!!!" Max Trenton, the director, screamed, once the paramedics had sped away to the hospital, with the beautiful young actress in tow. "Damn it, Ray," he growled to his casting director, "you'd better find me a new Queen Aria, and you'd better do it fast."

"Calm down, Max," Ray soothed, trying to comfort the distraught director, "we've only been filming for a week now, and most of the scenes we've started have been with Kali. There are only a few things we'll have to redo, now that Delaney's out of the picture. Tons of girls auditioned for this role, and we'll just call one of our backups, okay? In the meantime, you can get to work with Vegeta, and when Kali gets back from Pepper City, we can continue to work on some of their scenes together." 

"Augh, but Ray, you saw how perfect Delaney was for this role!" Max sighed, throwing his lanky body into a chair. "I saw the other girls; none of them were so perfect. I mean, this girl, Queen Aria, she has to be so amazing it would cause the dashing Dominic Satayn to fall in love with her! I can't have any old girl here, I need a practical goddess!"

"Max, with the crew we've got, we could make the Hunchback of Notre Dame into Prince Charming. I'm sure we can do wonders with any ordinary looking girl. Besides, Delaney may be pretty, but her acting skills weren't quite up to par. You know I'd never have hired her if you'd given me the choice."

"Acting, shmakting." Max grumbled, "You know as well as I do that Aria has about three lines in the whole movie. It's her presence that matters!"

"Look Max, I'll find you your goddess. Count on it. For now, you just concentrate on getting on with the filming. Everything will be fine." Ray gave his boss and long time friend a hearty slap on the back, before noticing Vegeta, who was coming their way.

"So she's out?" The Saiyan asked, with a pleased little smirk on his face. "Good, I didn't like her." Truth be told, he didn't really like many of the people on the set of the movie, actually, he didn't like many people at all. It was a wonder he had even met three people, aside from Bulma, of course, that he could tolerate. 

"Yeah, Delaney's gone. That leg'll take a good couple of months to heal; paramedic said the bone was broken in several places. Plus, I don't think she's the type to take to kindly to a workplace that almost killed her." Ray laughed, and Max cringed, shaking his head.

"If I ever find out who's responsible for that loose bolt, I will have his head on a platter." The director growled. "One bolt, one stupid little loose bolt put my Queen Aria out of commission."

"And I told you it would be fine, so stop worrying about it!"

"I can't! Pseudo Ferocity is my baby! This movie is my dream, Ray!"

"Max, your dream was to sleep with three women at once, and you did that last week." Ray laughed, and Vegeta turned his head away as a slight blush crept up to his cheeks. Oi, humans were positively obsessed with sex! Not that he wasn't, of course, but that was a purely scientific wonderment, he told himself. Aside from the bit with Bulma…

He cringed, thinking of Bulma. He hadn't seen her since the incident in his apartment; he wanted to, of course, but he didn't know how to go about doing that. He couldn't possibly let her know he actually wanted to see her! She'd lord it over him and think he'd gone soft for her, which, of course, wasn't true. It had been quite the opposite actually; he'd woken up quite hard for her every morning for the past week!

Naturally, she'd called, for it was in her nature to seek out assurances from him as to where she stood. The conversation had been awkward, however, as Vegeta was quite confused about his own desires concerning the little female. During the day, he was kept busy with filming, but at night he'd had plenty of time to muck through his own thoughts, and the truth was he was just sinking deeper into the quicksand of his own mind. What had once been a seemingly uncomplicated bodily lust for a pretty woman had somehow transformed into something sweet and warm; something that completely baffled the Saiyan warrior. 

The furthest experience he'd had with sweet, warm things were the pastries Mrs. Briefs had been so fond of, and somehow, he didn't think that would help him in this situation.

"Hey Vegeta, you okay?" Ray asked, sensing a change in the darker man's demeanor. "You look a little bothered by something."

"I'm fine." Vegeta snapped, turning on his heel and stalking away. Ray was not a bad guy, but he was not someone the Saiyan would share confidences with. Their relationship was purely business, there was nothing friendly about it. He was annoyed with himself for spacing out as he had, especially since it had been in front of Ray and Max. Deep thought was a personal thing, not meant to be shared with people, and it embarrassed him that he had forgotten control over himself for that split second. It was something that happened very rarely, and when it did, it was immensely disturbing to the Saiyan, who had long prided himself on his expert control of things.

"Kinda moody, ain't he?" Max snorted, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. 

"Quicksilver temper," Ray agreed, "but damn, does it ever fit for Dominic."

"Oho, definitely. It really is too bad that Delaney broke her leg, you know, the two of them looked fantastic together."

"But the chemistry was absolutely nonexistent, Max. He was completely indifferent to her unless the camera was rolling. For Dominic and Aria to work like we need them to, we need to find someone who clicks with Vegeta, and let our makeup and costume crews turn her into the beauty she needs to be.

"Good luck trying to find someone like that! Ray! The man is indifferent to everybody. For God's sake, the only person on set he actually likes is the cook!"

"Ahh, what's the trouble here boys?" A soft, feminine voice intervened, and the two men turned to see the head costume designer, Marille Goldstern, with a lean, wide-eyed man in tow. "Ray, you met Bruce Hoffman, Max, this is the designer I told you about. He's agreed to help me with some of the costuming concepts for Vegeta."

"Oh yes, we met at your show, Bruce. Max, this is the designer Vegeta was working for when I spotted him."

"Pleased to meet you," Max smiled slowly, "so tell me, do you know Vegeta well? Perhaps you could help Ray and me with a little dilemma we're facing."

"Why I'd be glad to!" Bruce shot the director a winning smile and pulled up a chair.

"You see, one of my actresses has broken her leg, and even if she wanted to come back, I'm afraid we just can't delay shooting long enough to let her heal. So we are faced with the task of replacing her. Now, the thing is that her character and Vegeta's, they have to share a great passionate affair on camera, and in order to make it more believable, we want an actress who shares a certain chemistry with him, off screen. That way, things will seem much more natural when the camera is rolling." Max paused.

"That makes sense." Bruce nodded.

"Yes, and since you seem to know him so well, I thought perhaps you could give us a clue as to what kind of girl would be able to click with Vegeta."

"Oh ho, you're in for it." Bruce laughed, "I do believe there is only one woman on the face of the planet capable of that, and she's a terrible actress."

"Aria has about three lines in the movie Bruce, her acting skills could be nonexistent for all I care! All she has to do is be there and be believable with him! Just give me her name and Ray and I will work it out." Max barked growing uneasy at the silly, mischievous smirk painted on Bruce's face.

"Bulma Briefs."

"You mean…"

"Yep! Personally, I think you should surprise him, that way he can't make himself scarce for her arrival."

"It's hopeless Ray," Max sighed, "how the hell would we get her away from the company and onto the movie set? My picture is going to go up in flames!"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm a close friend of hers. Besides, she'll be dying to see him. All we need is a good excuse so she doesn't feel foolish coming here just to see Vegeta."

"I'll believe it when I see it." Max sighed, looking skeptically at the designer. Everybody knew she was not a big player in the fashion world, so why would she be on such close terms with two of its biggest stars?

"You mean you haven't seen that picture of them together? It was in the newspaper and all over the entertainment _and_ business news, especially after news of her breakup with Yamcha went public." Bruce babbled, oblivious to the excitement he was causing. 

"Get her here. I don't care how you do it, just get her here," Max said, "and we'll see how things work out."

"Sure thing! Glad to help out!" the designer smiled, nodding his head in affirmation. "It won't be hard to get her here. The only problem I can foresee is getting her to actually be in this movie!" 

Bulma sat alone in her office, cross-legged in her chair. One pant leg was rolled up past her knee, her shoes and socks were in a pile on the floor, and she was intently drawing on her leg with her pen. Ahhh, the hectic lives of the rich. A swirling blue line curled up from her big toe, all around her foot, and about halfway up her calf, swooping and whirling over soft, creamy skin. The other leg had already been done, only up to the knee because she couldn't push her pants up any further, and didn't think it would exactly be appropriate to take them off. 

She took a break, taking a moment to survey her work, and smiled at the blue, flame-like pattern licking at her flesh. "God, I am strange…" she muttered, propping her inky foot up on the desk in order to keep drawing on the back of her leg. The shrill ring of the phone startled her, and her hand slipped, drawing a straight blue line over her swirls, and she cursed, fumbling around to grab the phone from her awkward position. 

"Hello, this is Bulma Briefs," she said politely, licking a finger and dabbing it at her leg, trying to undo the damage that had been caused to the mesmerizing pattern.

"Bulma, it's Bruce! How are you?" The bubbly voice asked, then continued before she could answer. "I was wondering if you had dinner plans for tonight, see, Caleb and I are going out with a few people I met on the set today, and I thought you might like to come. We're going to Chez Fromage at 7:00, see you there!"

Bulma couldn't help but to laugh as the dial tone rang in her ear. Bruce, what a character he was! So exuberant and vivacious; nothing could bring that man down. "Well, I guess I've got dinner plans." She laughed, buzzing her secretary to make sure she didn't have any other obligations that night.

"So Bulma, Bruce tells me you're quite good friends with Vegeta." Max smiled, spearing a forkful of pasta, as he watched the pretty woman on the other side of the table blush lightly.

"Yes, we've known each other for quite a while now." She nodded, taking a sip of her wine in an attempt to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. 

"You know, I'd love for you to come visit the set; it would be nice to have the opinion of someone who isn't on the payroll, you know?" Max laughed, giving Ray a light pat on the back. 

"I think that would be wonderful, Mr. Trenton, --"

"Max, call me Max."

"Alright, Max, I'd love to come out and see how everything's done. It's terribly interesting." She smiled placidly, putting on her business face.

"How about Saturday," Ray suggested, "we'll be filming some very interesting scenes, and I'm sure Bruce and Marille would love to hear your opinion on the costume design."

"Wonderful idea, Ray." Max nodded, settling the matter. "We'll see you Saturday."

"Oh yay! This is going to be so fun! Caleb, you should come too…I mean, if you're not busy." Bruce added, after a pause, and Caleb made a mental note to clear his schedule as soon as possible.

"I…I suppose I could come. I don't believe I have anything important to attend to this Saturday." Bulma thought a moment, before nodding her head. "No, I'm pretty sure my schedule is clear. What time do you think would be good?"

"Oh, the whole day, of course!" Max smiled, a secret little glint of mischief in his eyes. It was almost in the bag, and seeing Bulma up close, he was confident that she would fit the part of Aria, as well as physically complimenting Vegeta's Dominic. Now all he had to do was convince her to take the part…but that would wait until Saturday. For the moment, he was content to revel in the minor success of getting the lovely Ms. Briefs out to the set. 

"Yes, Bulma! You and Caleb can come out with me in the morning!" Bruce affirmed, "We'll make a day of it! Oh my, Vegeta will be happy to see you! I can't wait!"

Vegeta sat in his trailer, cross-legged on the small bed, pouring over the thick script in front of him. Already having learned the embarrassment of forgetting a line, he had decided to commit the entire thing to memory, even if it killed him. There was no way he would subject himself to the humiliation of having to use the prompter. Besides, the intricate details of the story provided an excellent distraction from thoughts of a certain female that had currently been invading his mind. Oh, how he wanted her; that luscious little body, quick wit and intelligence all packaged together, to tease and stimulate every single one of his senses. Though he would not admit it aloud, he was beginning to realize that there was simply no way of ridding himself of the woman. She was stuck in him, whether he wanted her there or not, and though the Saiyan Prince had never been one to give up, he was smart enough to realize that he had been fighting a losing battle against his own desires. 

There was no point in trying to deny it to himself, but there was no rule against suppressing it, so that is just what he did, burying himself in thoughts of Dominic Satayn and his royal love affair. 

__

"I cannot continue this charade," she whispered softly, against his chest, "I fear I will die if I must share the King's bed even once more, Dominic." She paused, a shudder passing through her delicate body, so smooth against her lover's skin. "He is my husband, but you are my only love, and I cannot stand it, to be with another man. I feel so foul…every time he beckons me to his chambers, I fear I will go mad from it all."

"Hush, love, hush. I too, know the pain you feel. The thought of him touching you, making love to you—"

"It is not lovemaking!" Aria cried aloud, cutting him off. "It is…it is his physical satisfaction, never mine…never love. If I could I would will myself to disappear, to never go there again. I would run away, were it possible, and never ever return."

"Would you…really run away?" Dominic's breath hitched, an idea forming in his head.

"I swear it, my love! I would never return!"

"Then that is what we shall do, my beautiful little Queen. You and I, we shall leave this place and start a new life! I shall call myself Radulf Shannley, and you will be Mrs. Elizabeth Shannley…"

"And we shall have a little cottage in a little village, and grow our own vegetables in a wee little garden…"

"And have ourselves a dairy cow, and a chicken to lay us fine eggs." Dominic smiled in the moonlight, a rare grin alighting on his features.

"Really Dominic? Do you promise?"

"With all my heart, love. We shall leave before three moons pass. Be ready, and I shall fetch you when the time has come." Dominic whispered, laying a finger over her lips. "But hush, you mustn't tell anyone. Not a soul, Aria, for if we are found out, the King will surely have us both put to death. So not a word, love."

"Not a word." She nodded, before laying a rose-petal kiss on his lips. "But the sun begins to rise, far off in the horizon. You must leave now, if this is to remain a secret."

"Until tonight then."

"Damn it…" Vegeta mumbled to himself. "So much for forgetting about women." He flopped backward onto the bed, tossing the script onto the table. Really, it had been simple lines and indications of actions, but his ever-active mind had turned it into a Harlequin novel! Kami, what a mess he was in; pining for a woman whom he had chased away after freaking out over a little kiss! She would no doubt force herself back into his life, but what was to say it wouldn't happen again…and again and every time she made an attempt to be intimate with him? Was he doomed to a life of forced celibacy?

"NO! I will beat this!" The Saiyan growled aloud, pounding his fist against the cushy mattress. "I will not be defeated by the demons of my past…" _Not when there is such a good chance for the future…_

Okay…so I feel rotten saying this, but it might be a long wait for the next chapter again. I have a busy few weeks coming up, but I'll try my best, because I feel like a total cad making you guys wait so long for updates. 

On another note, I got fanart for Pseudo Ferocity!!! YAY!! It's really awesome, so go look at it! It's on my site, that's not done yet…but I guess you can look at it anyway! But yeah, go to the fanart section and check that stuff out! But like I said, it's still not done. Half my links aren't up, and more than half of my fanfics aren't up, among other things.

****

Mp3 of the Day: Edwin McCain - I'll Be


	16. Acting

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

****

Author's Notes: Okay, so I'm really late with this chapter…but trust me, I have good reasons. Computer crash, writer's block, extreme business with homework and grad committee, yada, yada, yada. I won't bore you with the details, I'll just let you get to the chapter!

*Special thanks to Kat8125, and Silver Sun for beta-ing*

16: Acting

Bulma stepped carefully out of Caleb's Jaguar, running one hand through her hair as she shut the door with the other. Self-consciously, she glanced at her reflection in the car's tinted windows, smoothing the form-fitting capri pants over her hips, and straightening her shirt. With the aide of a compact mirror she fished out of her purse, she did a quick makeup check, and with one saliva-dampened finger, she wiped away a tiny smudge of eyeliner that had collected at the outer corner of one eye, then dabbed on a little lip-gloss.

"Are we done yet, Miss Briefs?" Caleb joked, elbowing her playfully in the ribs, and nearly causing her to smear frosty pink lip-gloss across her cheek. She glared at him, then snapped the compact shut, dropping it into her purse as a slight feeling of embarrassment began to wash over her. She felt like she was back in high school, crammed in front of the bathroom mirrors amongst the other girls, pasting herself over with the gaudy makeup that had been a staple of her generation's youth.

"Perhaps you'd like to borrow some, Cay," she quipped back, "your lips aren't as pouty pink as they could be. You know, the guys really go for that." Her words, veiled in a teasing note, struck right at home, and Bulma watched his cheeks darken to a deep, rich crimson. She flashed him her sweetest smile before trotting off to catch up with Bruce, who was already on his way to the set, where Max Trenton waited.

Bulma was nervous, more so than she had ever been before. She had not seen or spoken to Vegeta since the night of the kiss, and she wondered how he would react to her presence on the movie set. Would he see it as yet another intrusion into his new life? Or would he welcome her, with the secret hope that things between them could be salvaged? Or would he even care? Would he go back to being the introverted, angry, stubborn Vegeta that had taken up residence in her home so long ago, or could she hope for the Vegeta she had come to know over the past months?

Too many questions, not enough answers. Her head hurt, but she hid it behind a smile. She hid everything behind a dazzling white smile. It didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Vegeta, will you stop scowling at me like that?" Marille sighed, exasperatedly. She was the costume designer who had been at the show with Ray when Vegeta was discovered, and she was currently trying to alter one of the many costumes Vegeta would have to wear for the movie. It seemed that she had drastically underestimated his size, as he was unusually well built for someone of his small stature. 

"If you don't stop sticking me with those damnable pins, I'll do more than scowl," the Saiyan shot back, his words accentuated by a deep grumbling from the back of his throat. 

"Oh please, like a teeny little pin prick makes a big difference to a guy like you." She scoffed, intentionally jabbing him again with the sharp point as she pinned back a loose piece of material. 

"It gets a little annoying after the FIFTIETH TIME!" He rumbled back, grinding his teeth in an attempt to control his irritation. At first, Marille Goldstern had seemed to be a nice, quiet woman; someone who avoided confrontation, and didn't, as they say, rock the boat. In reality, she was much like Bridget, with an annoyingly teasing attitude, and in Vegeta's opinion, possessed neither the looks nor charm to pull it off.

Marille's only response was a sarcastic snort; the kind specifically designed to make a person feel inferior. Vegeta's fingers clenched into a fist so tight the veins in his arm began to bulge. By the gods, how he wanted to teach her a lesson, but he had to restrain himself, if only for the sake of his job. He was smart enough to know that none of his new employers would be pleased if he mauled their costume designer, however appealing the idea was. So instead of hauling Marille up by the throat and ripping out her entrails with his bare hands, he took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he possibly could. 

"Anyway, I'm almost done pinning this one up." She added, selecting another pin from the brightly colored pincushion she kept at her side. "And then you can go. I heard Max has invited some woman out to the set, and he'll probably want you to woo her into doing him some sort of favor. Either way, this is the last thing that needs altering - so far - so you won't have to see me unless you rip your britches."

"In that case, goodbye forever." Vegeta snorted, wondering who Marille was talking about. Someone he knew? Not very likely. Oh well, he figured that anyone would have been better company than the chatty seamstress. 

"Annnnnd….Done!" Marille exclaimed, pushing the last pin though the fabric, not without first stabbing Vegeta's calf though. "Now good luck getting those off without pricking yourself all over again!"

__

Deep breaths Vegeta…deep breaths…and mutilation…mutilation is good…NO! control yourself Vegeta! Control is good… 

Vegeta stalked to the back of the room, behind a curtain that had been set up for changing, and proceeded to jab himself exactly five-hundred and thirty-two times during the process of taking off his shirt, and then another two-hundred and three times while taking off his pants. Gruffly pulling on his own clothes, he stormed out of the costume building and back to his trailer to go over his lines for the scene he was to film that afternoon.

"Bulma, I've got a little confession to make." Max admitted, between takes of a scene between two of the lesser characters in his film. "I wasn't exactly pure in my motives to bring you here today…you see, I have a teensy little favor to ask of you." A guilty smile spread across his lips, and he tried his best to look innocent. "Do you think you could help us out by reading a scene with Vegeta?" He asked, then quickly rushed to explain himself. "I mean, you already know we haven't been able to find a replacement for Delaney yet, but this scene, there's something not-quite-right about it, and I'd like to fix it as soon as possible." Max flashed an apologetic 'you-know-how-it-is' smile, "so I thought that since you're here…maybe you wouldn't mind helping out?"

"Oh Max…I really don't know about this…"

"Oh come on Bulma!" Bruce interrupted, "It'll be fun! Right Caleb?"

"Yeah Bulma, go on. It's the steamy loooove scene," he teased. 

"I guess…if it'll really help." Bulma agreed, hesitantly allowing herself to warm up to the idea. After all, it was just a reading, right? It wasn't like she was actually going to be IN the movie.

"I'll go tell Vegeta! He'll be so excited!" Bruce jumped up, off to Vegeta's trailer before Bulma had a chance to change her mind.

"WHAT?!?" Vegeta roared, spinning around to face Bruce. "No, I won't do it. I can't. Not that scene, not with her."

"Vegeta, please, it's just a reading."

"No it isn't!"

"What's the problem? Honestly, it isn't that big a deal."

Vegeta turned away again, silently brooding. He didn't really have a choice in the matter; it was either read the scene with Bulma and face a potential erection and/ or private flashbacks, or explain to everyone how afraid he was of his own feelings, and suffer complete and total public humiliation. 

"Nothing," he finally answered, struggling to control the shake in his voice. "No problem. When do we start?"

About an hour later, Vegeta was pacing restlessly around the small trailer. Ten minutes…he was supposed to be there in ten minutes for the reading with Bulma. Curse all the deities in existence! What was he going to do? Well, the answer to that one was obvious; he would show up and read the damnable scene. But what would he do if something happened? A possible sexual response was pretty easy to cover up and explain, after all, she was a beautiful woman, and he was a man…in fact, people probably expected him to be at least a little attracted to her, and Bulma, well she had already seen her effect on him. A flashback, however, would be far more difficult to explain, and about one hundred million times worse. 

Vegeta wasn't in control of himself anymore, and it bothered him. It bothered him so much, in fact, that he forgot to be angry with her for interfering in his professional life again.

"Alright now, Vegeta, we've got your costume all set up and ready so go put it on. Bulma, Marille's ready behind that curtain to the left with Delaney's costume, so just put it on, and she'll pin it in if need be." Max smiled, ushering the pretty young woman toward the hastily erected dressing curtains.

"Wait a minute here," Vegeta groused, "it's just a reading, so why the hell do we have to be in costume?"

"Ummm…well, Vegeta, I told you this scene is not-quite-right and needs to be fixed, so I figured it would be easier for me to fix it if I were able to easily envision what it would look like in the movie. That's why I'm having it taped too, so I can review it later." Max babbled, beginning to sweat a little under the Saiyan's scrutinizing glare. 

"Fine." Vegeta muttered after a moment, and stalked off toward his dressing curtain. Bulma watched after him for a moment before following suit and heading toward her own curtain. 

"Whoo, that was close." Max sighed, once the two were out of hearing range, and flopped down into his director's chair. "I never want to get on that man's bad side."

"Strange, it fits perfectly." Bulma murmured, twisting and turning about in front of a body length mirror. "It's like this costume was made specifically for me." 

"Yes…" Marille coughed, averting her eyes toward the ground in a very suspicious manner, "strange." Bulma looked at her a moment, warily, before shrugging it off and flouncing out of the curtained area and back toward the set. Vegeta was already there, silently taking direction from Max, and she stopped short, covertly admiring the way the fitted tunic and breeches fit his muscular form. Suddenly, she felt very self-conscious in the full-length, frilly Victorian nightgown, and for a quick moment, considered turning back around and hiding.

"Ahh, Bulma! We need you over here, in the bed." Max called out, noticing her presence in the distance. "Well, what are you waiting for? No reason to be camera shy!"

"Sorry…" she muttered back, hurrying over to the gigantic four poster bed…the set of Queen Aria's bedchamber, where her adulterous love affair with Lord Dominic Satayn was to take place. 

"Just climb right up on the bed, into the middle. Yes, that's it, right there. Now, you've read the script over, right?" Max asked, and Bulma nodded. "Good, so you know what you're supposed to do?" Another silent nod. "Okay then, let's get started. If you forget something, look to Bruce, and he'll help you out."

"Okay, got it." she swallowed thickly. "Let's get this over with."

"D…Dominic?" Bulma sat up in the bed, looking around the darkened set. "Is it you?"

"Of course, my love," Vegeta stepped out of a shadowed doorway and slowly made his way toward the bed, "You were expecting someone else, perhaps?" his hand reached out to brush aside a stray strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes.

"That isn't in the script." Bruce whispered to Max, who immediately shushed him.

"Never, my love. Never ever would I wish to be with someone else." Bulma looked coyly down at the sheets pooled around her body. "You are a scoundrel to suggest such a thing!"

"Ahh, that I am, my lady." Vegeta smiled, "And I wonder if such a benevolent lady might allow a poor scoundrel to share her blankets on such a cold night."

"Why, only a cold-hearted witch would turn away a frozen man." She smiled back, the candlelight flickering in her eyes. "But only if he takes off his boots."

"What of his shirt?" Vegeta asked, kicking off the tall leather boots he wore.

"That too." Bulma nodded, and obediently, Vegeta pulled the tunic up and over his head, dropping it on the floor beside his boots.

"And his britches?"

"Oh, naturally!" Bulma laughed, reaching out to tug at the waistline of Vegeta's pants, and trying to hide the subtle shiver that went though her, as her hand made contact with his stomach. She stopped, quite frozen in her position, and heat rose up to her cheeks as she looked up at Vegeta.

Taking the cue, the Saiyan let out a hearty laugh and pounced onto the bed, bowling Bulma over onto her back. "And what of the lady's nightdress?" he asked, tugging at one of the ribbon ties over her bosom. "It is proper custom, you know."

"I was right sir, to call you a scoundrel!" She laughed back, resting her head on the fluffed pillows beneath her. 

"And my lady is a terrible tease." Vegeta whispered back, his lips descending to touch hers as he eased his body down to lay on top of her. A soft sigh escaped Bulma's lips, and she opened her mouth to his, her hands running up his chest to clutch at his shoulders. She felt his weight press more heavily on her, as he shifted to run one hand along her side, his mouth pressing a little harder at hers. A groan rumbled up from his throat as he plunged his tongue into her mouth, giving in to the desperate need to taste her. He was quickly losing control of himself, and for once in his life, he didn't care.

"Aaaaand, CUT!" Max yelled, "that was great, you two! I should have lots to work with! And Bulma, I don't know how to thank you for helping out! I'll be in touch to let you know how it went! Actually, maybe you could come back tomorrow and see the tape for yourself! I'll make the necessary arrangements!"

Bulma nodded weakly from her position, hot and flushed beneath the Saiyan Prince, who was also looking a little unsettled.

"Vegeta, I'll need you in about twenty minutes for the scene with Dominic's wife, so make sure you see Marille and get your costume! See you then!"

"Yeah…" Vegeta muttered, finding his voice as he pushed himself off and away from Bulma. "Which set?"

"Oh, number 17! The palace guest quarters. And Bulma, you're welcome to go get changed if you'd like to."

"Thanks…" Bulma muttered, before turning and heading back toward the dressing curtains. Vegeta followed shortly after, trying not to be too obvious as he admired her swaying backside.

"Why the diddly did you stop them?!?" Bruce cried, elbowing Max in the ribs as soon as the pair was out of earshot. "I worked so hard to get her here, with him, and now you just go and yell cut!"

"You'll have to excuse Bruce," Caleb put in, with a laugh, "he's been trying to play matchmaker for a few weeks now."

"Yeah, I gathered that much," Max snorted back, checking his watch for the time. "Oh man, guys, I'm supposed to be over at set 22 in about three seconds, so I'll have to catch you two later! Make yourselves at home!" 

Bruce and Caleb stood in a somewhat awkward silence, watching as Max ran off toward the set. The pair hadn't really been alone together since the night of the show, after going out for drinks. "So…how's…stuff?" Bruce groped for something to say. 

"Okay." Caleb mumbled back, equally tongue-tied. "And you?"

"Oh, I'm okay…" Bruce said softly, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"Look Bruce…I uh…I think we need to talk," the young businessman blurted out. Lord, how he had messed things up! In his somewhat drunken state, he had kissed the eccentric designer, possibly ruining a friendship with one of the best people he had ever met, and almost definitely ruining any chances at romance. He had meant to come out some day, and eventually confess his love for Bruce, but the kiss, the damn kiss! Bruce hadn't been the same toward him since that night. 

__

Oh no, Bruce thought, frantically, _he's going to tell me it was all a mistake and that he's totally straight and that the kiss meant nothing at all! NO! I don't want to hear it!_ "No, I've got to go…to…over there." He bumbled, before abruptly turning away.

Caleb's heart grew heavy as he watched his best friend walk away, and was so wrapped up in pain that he didn't notice Bulma's presence behind him, until she put her hand on his shoulder, startling him. "Oh, Bulma…that was quick. Where's Vegeta?" He asked, trying to shake the emotion from his expression.

"Oh, don't be an idiot." She snapped, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Go run after him, you big dolt!"

"Wh…what?"

"You heard me! Chase him down!" She laughed, and he sent her an uncertain little smile.

"You really think he'll…?"

"I know so!" She turned his body in the direction that Bruce had gone, and gave him a quick slap on the rump. "Now go!" He jumped forward in surprise, but flashed her a smile as he took the first hesitant step, then another. 

Before long, he was running.

Oooh, Bruce and Caleb, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!! *giggle* I'm such a dork…lol. 

****

Mp3 of the Day: "Guy Guy" by Max Coveri


	17. Seriously Deep

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

****

Author's Notes: Okay, so I know this took a really long time…3 days short of a month, actually, but I have reasons. See, first there was Grad (yep, I graduated!!! Well…not technically. We just have ceremonies early 'cause a lot of people are posted at the end of the school year) which took up a lot of my time, since I was on grad committee…And now, I'm trying to prepare for finals, and teachers around here, they start preparation early…so for the past 2 and a half weeks, I've been swamped with studying for review exams, and mountains of review homework assignments, so I really haven't had any time to write. And I feel like a total ass saying this, but chapter 18 will take a while as well. Finals for the next week and a half, then job search, then trying to figure out what the hell I'm going to write…blargh.

*Special thanks to Bulma Peacecraft, Kat8125, and Silver Sun for beta-ing*

17: Seriously Deep

Caleb found Bruce sitting all alone in the costume storage trailer, wiping his eyes on one of the elaborate gowns that had been designed for Delaney, and would hopefully be altered for Bulma. "B…Bruce, look…I…" The young businessman sputtered, stepping into the cramped space and closing the door behind him. "We…we need to talk, alright? I'm not letting you leave until I've said what I have to say." He took a deep breath, and tried to steady his shaking hands. "That kiss…"

"I know. You were drunk, and it never should have happened." Bruce put in, dejectedly blowing his nose on the train of a velvet gown. 

"You're right, it shouldn't have happened." Caleb nodded his head, and swallowed a lump in his throat. Bruce tried to hold back a small sob. "I never meant for it to happen that way…I wanted to…to…" he blushed hotly and trained his gaze on the floor. "I wanted to make it…more romantic. I wanted to make this moment more romantic."

"Wha…I don't understand…" Bruce said, his eyes wide and vulnerable. "What moment?" He stared uncertainly at his friend, confusion written all over his face.

"The moment when…when I tell you I love you." Caleb's throat was burning with the effort it took to force the words out, but the moment they left his lips, it was as if a dam had broken, allowing all his emotions to flow freely. "God, Bruce…I've loved you for so long, and I know you probably don't feel the same way, but I…I just had to tell you! I couldn't hold it in any longer." He released a shaky breath, and looked up to see tears spilling down the designer's cheeks. "Please…please don't hate me."

"C…Caleb!" Bruce cried out, launching himself at the other man and wrapping his arms tightly around. "I…was so afraid…I thought you were…I mean, you always said…Oh God, Caleb, I love you too." He wailed, burying his face in the taller man's chest. "How could I tell you though? You were always straight…I thought you would hate me if I told you."

"I was too afraid to come out…I always admired you so much Bruce. You were never afraid of what you felt…but I was terrified. I still am."

"I'll help you." Bruce whispered, tilting his head ever so slightly to look into the other man's eyes. "We'll get through this together." Caleb nodded quietly, and wrapped his arms around Bruce. They stayed like that, holding each other, breathing, calming down for several minutes, before Caleb spoke, in a voice hoarse with emotion.

"You know," he smiled, "I've never kissed a boy before." Without hesitation, Bruce reached up and pulled Caleb into a long, gentle kiss, grinning devilishly as he finally pulled away.

"There's a first time for everything." 

Bulma sat, squirming in her seat as she watched the tape play back from the previous day. To put it bluntly, she thought she and Vegeta had looked extremely good in that bed, and just thinking about his body atop hers was getting her a little excited.

"Now Bulma," Max turned to her as the footage ended, "I have an itsy bitsy little confession to make." He scooted his chair closer to her. "You see, yesterday was not really about working the problems out of that scene…it was more like…an audition."

"What? An audition?" She asked, puzzled. Had she heard right?

"Bulma, I want you to be in my movie." He blurted out, grabbing her hands and holding them between his own.

"Are you crazy, Max? I'm no actress! I can't be in a movie! Besides that, I don't have the time in between all my duties at Capsule Corp!"

"Now, Bulma, please consider this. It's really not a big part, just a few lines at the beginning of the film as Queen Aria, and then a little bitty reappearance at the end of the movie!" He squeezed her hands, pleading. "You've read the script, correct?"

"Well, yes…"

"Then you know Aria is important only to set the mood, and to begin the plot! Most of this movie will focus on Dominic's search to find Aria's reincarnation and his relationship with her. Really, you'll just be a bit of support."

"I really don't know about this Max." Bulma mumbled, and he persisted, seeing her resistance beginning to crack.

"You saw how good the two of you looked together Bulma." Max prodded, "It was so convincing, the way you two interact on camera. Please? Pretty please?"

"Well…I guess if it didn't interfere too much with my work at CC." She relented, playing out the scene she had acted out with Vegeta in her head. It would definitely provide her with a chance to get close to him again…

"Perfect!! You won't regret this Bulma, I promise! Now, here's a copy of the script, and a quick overview of the plot that you'll need to be familiar with. Marille's been instructed to make herself available for re-sizing all of the costumes that were made for Delaney, so any time you're ready, you can go see her about that."

__

Oh god, what am I getting myself into? She wondered briefly, before smiling with a tiny nod of understanding.

"And if you don't mind, I'd like your cell and home phone numbers, so I can get in touch with you and set up a shooting schedule that won't inconvenience you."

"Oh, of course," she replied, with a grimace. Judging by the way that he had acted so far, Max would probably be calling her day and night, trying to coerce her into more commitment than she could handle.

"And I hope you won't mind if I end up stopping by, in the event that I can't get a hold of you in any other way." Max smiled, charmingly.

"I suppose…" she suppressed a heavy sigh. 

"Oh, and that reminds me; do you have an email address?" Bulma nodded and obediently divulged her contacts, already beginning to regret her decision.

__

I should've asked for some time to think it over, she thought,_ or at least found out what I'd be getting myself into before I agreed to this._ She frowned, already envisioning the extra stress her decision would bring, and dreading the wrinkles and gray hairs that would most definitely come about as a result._ Maybe it won't be so bad_, she reasoned, _after all, he did promise to work around my schedule. And I suppose it won't do me any good do to worry over it. I'll be willing to put up with nearly anything, as long as I get to be in such close contact with Vegeta._ She allowed herself a small smile, thinking of her new co-star, and once again recalling the urgency of their on-set kiss. No matter how good an actor he was, that kind of passion couldn't be so easily faked.

Sure, the movie stars did it all the time, but this…this was different. It was the real thing, not just a scripted illusion…well, scripted, maybe, but the feeling had been absolutely, completely and totally real. On her end, at least.

"Oh man," she moaned to herself, "I'm getting in seriously deep here."

"Somebody's going to have to break it to Vegeta." Bruce piped up, and Max nodded, eying the slight flush across the designer's cheekbones. It had been there since he walked in, and Max was desperately curious as to its origins.

"You think he'll take it badly?" he asked.

"Well, Vegeta's a little unpredictable sometimes. He got all weirdly when I told him Bulma would be reading that one scene with him, so I don't know how he'll react to a whole movie. He may be fine with it…or he may explode in a murderous rage." Bruce laughed; Max looked nervous.

"Maybe…you or Bulma?"

"No problem!" Bruce waved off Max's concerned look. "Even if he goes all nut-buttery on us, he'll calm down. 'Sides, what man wouldn't want to kiss Bulma…well, straight man, you know." He chuckled.

"Yea…speaking of straight men, where'd Caleb head off to?"

"Oh, Cay?" the blush deepened. "He had a meeting scheduled for 3:00, so he had to head back into the city."

"Ahh, nice guy. Is he single? I thought maybe I'd set him up with a lonely friend of mine; I think he'd really like her."

"Ummm…he's not exactly…on the market."

Vegeta paced his trailer, back and forth in the small space, like a caged tiger. _How DARE she?_ He raged inside. _How dare she force herself into my life like this? Yet again, I am forced to be dependant on her for my livelihood!_ His fists clenched and unclenched with the raging desire to wring Bulma's neck.

He had just learned from Bruce that she had agreed to play the role of Queen Aria, replacing the injured Delaney Ritton. Granted, it was a small supporting role, but an important one, nonetheless. Without Aria, the rest of the plot would make little sense, so in essence, the success of Pseudo Ferocity had been placed on the delicate little shoulders of Bulma Briefs. And it just so happened that Vegeta's success was directly proportional to that of the movie.

"Damn it!" he cursed. "Damn her!" Just as he had begun to enjoy her company again, she had to go and mess things up! "Well screw her!" he snarled into the air. "She can do whatever the hell she wants, and if she thinks she can control me, she's sorely mistaken!" He slammed a fist on the table, wincing as it cracked under the force. Someone would probably yell at him for that later.

Vegeta flopped heavily down in a nearby chair, crossing his arms over his chest, with the usual scowl etched across his features. "What the hell am I going to do now?" He wondered aloud, letting the real reason behind his anger surface. "I'm going to have to kiss her and touch her, on the set in front of all of those people." He reached over the broken tabled, grabbed his script and began to thumb through it, looking for all of the Dominic-Aria scenes. 

Sure, he'd have to kiss Kali Delmar, the actress who was playing Aria's reincarnation, and Jaqueline Brill, who was playing Dominic's wife, but that was different. With those two, it really was acting, but with Bulma…when they had read that scene together, it was as if a switch had been flipped inside of his brain, surrendering all control of his body to the nature of his passion. He hadn't been able to stop himself, and had Max not called 'cut' so loudly, he was sure he would have continued on with Bulma, right there on the set.

It bothered him immensely that he had been so willing to commit such an act in front of all of those people. Since his experience within Frieza's army, he had grown to believe that such matters were of a highly personal nature, and most certainly not to be shared with a crowd of onlookers. He was losing control over his body, his mind, even his own heart, and it was not something he liked. To depend on someone for livelihood was one thing, but to depend on someone for joy, for sanity, was an entirely different situation.

"Damn her!" Vegeta cursed again, softly this time. "Why do I have to feel this way about her? What is so different about her that captivates me so?" He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air, trying to calm his nerves. "This is so foolish. I am a Saiyan, a prince! I should not need her." _But I do…_ his mind screamed, _I need her so badly and I can't figure out why, and it is driving me absolutely insane!_

Bulma sat alone in her room, absorbing herself in the script Max had given her. It would be wise to familiarize herself with the nature of her character and to get a feel for Aria's particulars. "Damn good thing I took that Drama class way back in grade nine," she mumbled to herself as she turned the page. She had looked at her own scenes already, and had begun looking over the rest of the play, slowly becoming horrified with the amount of kissing Vegeta would be doing with women that were not herself. 

"How the hell am I going to be able to watch him do that?" She wondered aloud, already feeling the jealousy bubble up within her at just the thought of him touching another woman. "I'm going to have to hide every time he films with someone who isn't me, or I'm gonna flip…" she sighed, noting another kiss scene and adding it to the tally in her head. 

Something that worried her even more, however, was how she would film some of her own scenes with him. The one that she had read with him the other day continued into the bed, and partial nudity that, while not exposing her body to the world, would definitely expose it to Vegeta…and him to her. Beside each scene, a note about the costuming had been made, and all they would be permitted to cover themselves with were tiny skin colored thongs, to provide an illusion of nudity between the sheets.

"I really, really, really should have figured out what I was getting myself into…" she moaned, conjuring up images of herself and Vegeta, oh so nearly naked in that big four-poster bed. It would definitely be an experience…

Absently, she wondered whether or not Vegeta had been told of her role in the movie yet, and was desperately curious to know how he was handling the fact. She hadn't seen him before leaving the set, as he had been needed elsewhere, but she had noticed his distance once the scene had ended. Would he be mad, happy, or indifferent? Was he as nervous about their scenes as she was? Or did the thought of being so close to her faze him at all? 

Bulma had no idea where she stood with the Saiyan, aside from the fact that they had nearly fooled around that one time. Before that, she had been pretty confident that he shared her attraction, but afterward, she was terribly insecure about the whole matter, and it didn't help that he was so damn hard to read. It was nearly impossible to tell what he was thinking, unless she happened to catch him in a rare moment when his guard was down, which had happened only a few times in the few years that she had known him. It was infuriating sometimes, the way he was so introverted…but then again, she supposed that was half the reason she had become so attracted to him. A sense of mystery was an irresistible trait, and she couldn't help but to be drawn in to the enigma that was Vegeta.

She had, of course, discovered some things about him; he slept for only a few hours each night, though she didn't know whether that was due to his different physiology, or whether it was psychological. He also had a penchant for deep-fried anything, and could not stand the taste of mustard. He was quiet most of the time, though didn't hesitate to speak up when he wanted something, and strangely enough, she had caught him one or two times, late at night, deep in thought with one of her father's classical cd's playing softly on the stereo. It was a trait she would not have thought him to possess when they had first met, but supposed it must have been a throwback to his royal heritage or something like that. When it came to his past, she knew next to nothing. It was something he was never open about, and she assumed he had a very good reason to want to forget it all. 

"Bulma, dear," the high, bubbly voice of Mrs. Briefs called, jarring Bulma from her thoughts. "Are you in here, honey? Oh! You are!" she squealed, poking her head in through the door. "Oh, and you're studying your lines for your little play! Why just think of it! My baby, the lead actress! Why, I haven't been this excited since you played Little Red Riding hood in grade 5!"

"Mom," Bulma sighed, "for the twentieth time, it's not a play, it's a movie, and I'm not the star, I'm just a supporting actress." 

"Oh details…Anyway, tell me all about your little play."

"All right, all right…let me see…" she thought for a moment, wondering where to begin and how to go about telling the story without confusing her mother. "Okay, so in olden times-"

"What olden times?" Her mother interrupted.

"I don't know, they didn't tell me." Bulma huffed, "So anyway, there's this King, he's old, his first wife is dead, and he's married a beautiful young woman named Aria. They hold a ball to celebrate their marriage, and this guy, Lord Dominic Satayn, and his wife come to the ball. Anyway, they don't really get along very well, and Lord Dominic kind of has a roving eye."

"Oh, that kind of type eh?"

"Yes, anyway, so when Dominic and Aria meet, they're instantly drawn to each other. They start spending time together secretly, fall madly, deeply in love with each other, and start having an affair. When the King starts becoming suspicious, they make plans to run away together, but Dominic's wife finds out and tells the King all about their plans. On the night they are leaving, the King's guards intercept them, and when Dominic refuses to let them take Aria back to the castle, the guards get all physical."

"I think I see where this is going…"

"Anyway, Dominic is trying to fight off all of these soldiers at once, and he's getting pretty beat up. One of them goes to stab him with his sword, but at the last moment, Aria jumps in the way, knowing that Dominic will be killed. She dies instead, and the guards capture Dominic and take him back to the King, who wants to avoid the embarrassment of everyone knowing that his wife run away with another man. They frame Dominic for her murder, and he is hanged."

"What a horrible movie!" Bulma's mother gasped. "Everyone dies!"

"No, that's not where it ends. See, as Dominic is dying, something happens, and he is suspended between life and death. It turns out that there's this strange man, 'Luke' who's really Satan in disguise. He offers Dominic the chance to remain in the plane of the living so he can exact revenge upon the King, and so he can wait for Aria's soul to be reincarnated and they can be together."

"Ooh, that's really weird Bulma…"

"It's how it goes! So anyway, there's a catch. Satan is old and tired, so in exchange, Dominic will have to watch over Hell for him. Now, I think that by agreeing to rule Hell, Dominic will end up having to forfeit his soul when he finally dies, because, you know, it's kind of evil and all, but he doesn't know that; he's being tricked."

"Oh, That Satan is a tricky one!"

"Yeah mom…So Aria's soul is reincarnated a bunch of times, but it's always something bad. One time she's a dog, another she's a man, and some other stuff. Anyway, the last time he finds her, she's a very sick old woman, on her deathbed. He didn't find her until it was too late, and combined with all the other disappointments, it drives him insane. The next time she's reincarnated as a woman, he's a little off balance, and absolutely determined to have her, but she's pretty scared and confused, not to mention engaged to another man. Most of the movie deals with how he tries to get her to be with him. I know the whole thing sounds really crazy, but it's really pretty neat."

"I suppose…"

"So in the end," the phone rang, and Bulma's mother perked up, completely forgetting about the story. 

"Oh! I bet you that's Muriel! I'll talk to you later honey! Good luck with your play!" She jumped up off the bed and scurried off to answer the phone, leaving Bulma alone again.

"Well," Bulma muttered to herself, "I guess I'll tell her the ending some other time." She shrugged, closing the script and tossing it onto her vanity table. "I've got stuff to do!"

So I thought of writing a Caleb/Bruce lemon, but I decided against it because they are both original characters, and I don't want to focus on them too much. Personally, when I'm reading fanfiction, I dislike it when a story's focus becomes an original character, and I don't want to be a hypocrite. If I do write one, it'll be in some sort of 'lost lemon' form and probably won't be posted within Pseudo Ferocity.

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Mp3 of the Day: "Raining Men" by the Weather Girls. Eh heh heh…


	18. Pancakes and Waffles

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

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Author's Notes: Okay, I'm really sorry about the long wait, I know it's been about a month and I feel really awful. I have my reasons, however. Exams, extreme sickness, job search (I FINALLY found one!), and the visit of a friend I haven't seen in 4 years have all teamed up against Pseudo Ferocity. Hopefully I'll be able to get things back on track some time soon, and thanks for your patience.

*Special thanks to Kat8125 and Bulma Peacecraft for beta-ing*

18: Pancakes and Waffles

"All right, Vegeta, I want you to move in real slowly, and remember, you're completely confused. You're supposed to be dead but you aren't. Keep that thought in your brain as we shoot this scene." Max ordered, between sips from a cup of steaming coffee. It was his fifth cup…The one thing the director hated about his job was the early mornings. 

Vegeta nodded, thinking carefully about Max's directions. _You're supposed to be dead, but you're not,_ he thought, _shouldn't be too hard…I experienced this back on Namek._ He stretched his arms out, loosening his muscles as Max went about preparing everyone for the scene. Early mornings were no problem for Vegeta, as he was usually up at the crack of dawn to train anyway. He hadn't really slept all that well the previous night, however, and his body ached as a result. A dip in his Jacuzzi tub back at the apartment would have been heavenly at that moment, but unfortunately, he was stuck on a movie set out in the middle of nowhere. 

Bulma had been watching him very closely all morning, ever since she had arrived at the set. Vegeta assumed she knew how angry he would be with her, because she hadn't really attempted to approach him yet. It was a good thing too; he was still seething on the inside and probably would have exploded had she attempted to talk to him. Unfortunately for him, however, they were scheduled to shoot a scene together later that afternoon. Nothing at all racy, just the initial meeting of Dominic and Aria, which would require that he be very polite and nice to her in front of the camera.

Of course, there was nothing requiring him to make an effort otherwise, and he didn't intend to. 

"Okay everybody! Scene 23, 'Meet Luke' take one!" Max called, and Vegeta quickly took his place.

"Well hello there, Dominic. Fine day we're having, wouldn't you say?" The actor's name was Richard Martins, and he spoke with a heavy British accent.

"Wha…What's going on?" Vegeta croaked, a heavy noose around his neck. "Who are you?" He looked around, a confused and frightened look on his face, at the crowd of people, all frozen in their angry screams. He and Richard stood beneath the gallows, on a raised platform in the middle of a mob of peasants, stopped in time. 

"Oh, I suppose you could say we're in a kind of limbo." Richard smiled, revealing crooked, yellow teeth that had taken the makeup crew an hour to create that morning. 

"The people…" Vegeta made a move to reach out to one of the still forms, caught in a scream, but with the noose still around his neck, he choked and coughed. "They're all…"

"Stopped, yes. It wouldn't do to have them mobbing us while we talk, would it?"

"But I don't understand…"

"Of course you don't, Dominic, my boy. Nobody ever understands at first. That's why this is such a good deal." Richard let out a cackling sort of chuckle, before a violent cough wracked his body. "Now listen here, the King has framed you, yes?" Vegeta nodded, "Yes, he has, and you are probably wanting to get your revenge, no?"

"I'd kill him if I could." Came the growled reply.

"Ahhh, good. Now, I have a little proposition to make you. I will grant you life…well, a damned good impersonation of it, at least, until you are able to exact your revenge. Do we have a deal?"

"What's in it for you?"

"All you have to do is grant me a little favor."

"What is it?"

"Oh, Aria's life has a price now, does it? You would refuse the chance to avenge her death? Dominic, I didn't think you were so selfish. Perhaps I made a mistake in coming here."

"Fine, fine! I'll do it! Anything, I'll do it!" Vegeta called out, desperately.

"So we have a deal then?"

"Yes."

"I shall be seeing you then." Richard said, turning away from Vegeta.

"When?"

"Oh, after you are dead, of course." He laughed, and then continued, "but you mustn't worry yourself. Just let your body choke, and I shall take care of your soul."

"I have no choice then, but to trust you…but before you leave, tell me who you are!" 

"Oh, you can call me…Luke."

"Aaaand, CUT!" Max yelled. "That was marvelous boys! But I'd like to try it again, Richard, I want you to exude more evil. Well, not exactly evil I suppose…well wait, yes, I do mean evil…or do I? Oh, you know what I mean! From the top, people! Take two!" 

"So…you uh, want some breakfast or something?" Caleb asked, nudging Bruce in the side. "I mean, if you're hungry or anything."

"Just a bit more time," Bruce sighed contentedly as he snuggled up to the warm body beside him. "I just want to cuddle a bit longer."

"Okay." Caleb smiled, wrapping himself and the designer more tightly into the blankets. "We'll cuddle as long as you want." He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of Bruce's body against his own. It was a positively heavenly feeling, and he didn't relish the idea of giving it up any time soon.

"Maybe we could have pancakes…" Bruce mumbled, "Or waffles. I love waffles."

"Maybe we could have both." 

"Now Vegeta, you're mystified by this beautiful little creature." Max called from his director's chair. "You've never seen anything so lovely, and you want her. You need to have her!"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." The Saiyan growled back, hardly in the mood to admit that he really was mystified by her, even through his anger. He really couldn't help it, she had some sort of power over him and he could not struggle free of it…admittedly, there was a tiny part of him that did not want to be freed at all. Vegeta, of course, tried to ignore that part. It didn't seem to be working.

He watched her, subtly, out of the corner of his eye. She was adjusting the bust of her dress; her large, full breasts were nearly spilling out the top and he couldn't help but to look.

She caught him.

He turned quickly away, absolutely mortified by the fact. He was not supposed to be peeping at her! He was supposed to be angry with her!

Bulma giggled to herself, still fiddling with her dress. The bustier was a big pain in the ass, but it was worth it to get such a reaction out of Vegeta. One may even say she was attempting to get a rise out of him…

"Okay everybody on set!" Max's voice rang out over the din of mumbled conversations and scurried preparations. "Places people! Quickly now please!" Once everyone had moved and was properly in place, he stood for a moment, surveying the scene. Bulma and Kenneth Drey, the actor who played the role of the King, were seated in elaborate thrones, side by side on a raised dais. The ornate doors on the other side of the throne room set had been opened for Vegeta's entrance with Mira Salsey, who played Dominic's wife Miranda Satayn. "Bulma, I want your hands clasped on your lap…try to look more shy and innocent. Yes, that's it. Remember, you're the new young wife of a King, and you're about to meet more people who will compare you to the first wife."

"Okay," she said, obediently folding her hands in her lap. She bent her neck a little, averting her eyes to the ground. 

"Ahh, that's very good. Now Kenneth, sit up a little straighter, puff yourself up. You hate Dominic Satayn. You hated his father, and his father before him. You're a very proud man, a King, and not hesitant to lord your power over him."

"Sounds good." Kenneth nodded, straightening his back and puffing out his chest.

"And Vegeta," Max turned toward the doors, "You dislike the King just as much, but you're attempting to hide it. Mira, remember not to stand to close to Vegeta; Miranda is still livid about catching Dominic with the chamber maid."

"Got it." Mira chirped, grateful to step away from the Saiyan. In truth, he made her a little uneasy and she was glad that their characters, in spite of their marriage, were not particularly close.

"All right then, let's get going!" Max clapped, not bothering to wait for a response from Vegeta. He knew it would never come.

The camera was rolling, the lights were on, and Bulma was struggling to do as she had been told. Her eyes traveled up though, of their own volition, and widened as they settled upon Vegeta. She felt her cheeks begin to heat up and tried to look away but couldn't seem to force herself.

"Oooh, that's good Bulma!" Max shouted, knowing the sound could be edited out later. "Love at first sight; you can't keep your eyes off of him! I absolutely adore the blush. Very nice touch!"

So preoccupied with the god walking toward her, she barely even heard him.

"Now Vegeta, you're watching Aria secretly out of the corner of your eye, that's good! Walk tall now, Dominic is prideful. Yes, you're doing well. Mira, remember you're still angry at Dominic!" Wordlessly, Mira adjusted her positioning, sneering a little in order to suit her character's mood.

"Greetings, Lord Dominic Satayn, and Lady Miranda Satayn, and welcome to my home." Kenneth spoke with a flourish of his hand, though his words were audibly forced. Max smiled; everything was going perfectly so far. 

"Thank you, your Majesty." Vegeta's words were equally cold as he bowed low to the King. Beside him, Mira dipped into a graceful curtsey. "We are most honored to be in attendance at this celebration of your…" he paused, giving Bulma the once over with his eyes, "enchanting new bride." A sultry smile spread across Vegeta's face as he met the Queen's eyes. Bulma's blush deepened.

Seeing the display, Kenneth's jaw tightened, and his posture became quite rigid. "We are most pleased you are here to join in the festivities. I'm sure your _wife_" he stressed the word, "will get along famously with _my_ lovely little queen." Bulma flinched, immediately taking her eyes away from the magnificent sight before her. 

"I'm sure we will, my lord." She spoke quietly, in a subdued tone, almost as if she were afraid of the King. She made a point to look disappointed as well, in reaction to the news that the man before her was married.

"Naturally. Now, I'm sure the Lord and Lady Satayn are tired from their trip, and would be most grateful for a chance to settle in and freshen up. Terrence," he summoned a servant with a wave of his hand, "Show our guests to their chambers." The actor nodded.

"This way please," he said to Vegeta and Mira, who followed him out the door and off of the set. Another set of servants closed the heavy doors behind them. 

"Aria, listen to me now, and listen to me well," Kenneth said sternly, turning toward Bulma, "You are to stay away from Dominic Satayn, is that understood?"

"Y…Yes my Lord. Of course." She responded, refusing to meet the King's eyes.

"AAAND, CUT!" Max yelled. "People, that was absolutely fantastic! I don't think we need to do it again, but I'll look over the tape, and then we'll know for sure. For now, everybody take a break!"

Bulma sighed with relief. She had been so sure she would mess up, but it looked as if she had pulled off her first scene wonderfully…though she made a mental note to go speak with Marille about the cut of her dresses. She didn't want to spend the whole time terrified that she would suddenly pop out of her top in front of the crew, especially if the camera was rolling. She didn't want to end up exposed on the internet or anything like that.

Hoisting herself out of the throne, she scanned the milling crowd for Vegeta, but the familiar spikes of raven hair could not be found. She heaved a disappointed sigh; he must have left the set in a hurry, to avoid her…it was what he had been doing every since she had arrived. "That dumb bastard," she huffed, no real anger in her voice, "I'm here because he's here, so the least he could do is say 'hi' or something. Well, if he thinks he's getting away from me that easily, he's got another thing coming!" She set off toward Vegeta's trailer, vowing not to let anything interfere with her path of travel.

"Bulma!" Max called "I need to talk to you a moment!"

"No, can't talk now." She muttered, and kept walking right past the director, who cast her a puzzled look. 

"But it's about-"

"No, can't talk now." She repeated, this time more forcefully, and kept going. Max just watched her go.

Knocking on Vegeta's trailer door proved to be a useless venture; nobody answered, so Bulma opened the door and let herself in. The tiny space was fairly neat, though she noticed a rather large crack in the table, and wondered what had made Vegeta so angry that he had gotten physical. Nothing else was damaged, so she assumed it had been a momentary fit, which relieved her. She hated to think that the Saiyan's rage was so out of control that he would smash up his own trailer. 

Bulma stepped inside and looked around a little, peeking into the bed, and even opening up the tiny bathroom, but Vegeta was nowhere to be found. His script was lying open on the table, however, and chancing a look, she found that it had been left on the scene they had practiced together, under Max's trickery. The bedroom scene…She wondered if it had been playing over and over in his head, as it had been in hers…and hoped it had. 

"What the hell are you doing in here?" A voice asked, and Bulma nearly jumped out of her skin, far too nervous to turn around and face the owner of the trailer. She remained silent. "I asked you a question woman! Do you intend to answer, or are you just going to stand there and sweat all day?" He asked, knowing she was embarrassed to have been caught snooping, and afraid of what he might do to her.

"I'm…I'm sorry Vegeta." She finally turned to face him, "I was just looking for you, and the door was unlocked so I thought you might be in here and just didn't want to answer when I knocked."

"Well I'm right here. What do you want?" He eyed her coldly, reaching past her to snap the heavy script shut. 

"I…thought maybe we could…practice our lines together for the next scene." Bulma sputtered, thinking quickly. Suddenly, the idea of berating him for his rudeness didn't seem to be the best idea. "It's sort of a close scene you know…and it might be kind of awkward if we haven't really been through it before."

He eyed her body, rigid posture and uncertain expression. She hadn't come to read lines, but it was a good idea nevertheless, and it would be beneficial…he didn't particularly like the idea of embarrassing himself on the set. More so, however, the woman seemed intensely uncomfortable, and he relished the idea of causing her a little discomfort. "Fine." He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he had not thought about it in those terms. "I suppose you need all the help you can get, if you're to avoid embarrassing yourself, and the rest of us, with your pitiful acting skills."

"Why thank you, oh benevolent master…" Bulma shot back dryly. "Let's just practice the stupid scene, okay?"

"Which one did you have in mind?"

"It starts on page 46…it's the first private meeting between Dominic and Aria." She watched him flip to the page. "I've been having a problem with this one. I was practicing the other day while Marille hemmed up one of my gowns. She said I had all the emotion of dead tuna." Vegeta smirked at that.

"Okay, let's see," he cleared his throat, "My dear lady, I am much surprised to meet you here. I had heard King Malcolm forbade you to see me," he smiled wolfishly at Bulma, settling himself into character, "though I must admit, I've no idea why."

"Sir, he seems to think you intend to seduce me." 

"Me? Why, I'm an innocent little lamb!"

"Or a wolf in sheep's clothing." Bulma shot back, settling herself beside Vegeta, pretending the couch was the garden bench where the scene was to take place.

"Tell me, do you intend to follow his orders?"

"Whose orders?"

"The King's orders, to keep a distance from me."

"I must admit, Lord Satayn, the prospect of keeping myself away seems somehow…disheartening. Would you wish me far away?"

"Nay, my lady, I wish you closer." Vegeta's voice was soft and tender as he leant toward her. "I wish you so close as to melt into you." His hand reached up to stroke her cheek, gently pulling her face toward his.

"Sir," she gasped, "this is not wise." Their lips danced so close, he could feel her breathing grow shallow.

"Matters of the heart are never wise." He replied, closing the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers. She let out a tiny moan and opened her mouth to him, twisting her tongue with his as she reached up to tangle her hands in his spiked mane. His hand slid down from her cheek, over the soft curve of her breast and down to settle on her back, pulling her body closer to his. 

Vegeta moaned deeply in his throat, pushing his lips more forcefully against Bulma's soft plush mouth. He wanted her, badly. Oh so badly…No! No, he couldn't! He was supposed to be angry with her! But she was so warm and soft and pretty and…NO! He ripped his mouth from hers and untangled her arms from around him. "No," he said, "That's enough. You should leave now."

Okay folks, that's it for this chapter. Again, sorry about the long wait. If you'd like to be on the mailing list, please send a BLANK email to cat_girl_26-subscribe@topica.com or you can email my hotmail address, specifying that you would like to be on the update list, and I'll manually send you an invite. 

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Mp3 of the Day: Finger Eleven, "Good Times" I just heard this song like, 2 days ago, and it's been stuck in my head for that time period…except I don't know the words, so I just keep making up weird ones.


	19. When this trailer's a rockin', don't com...

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

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Author's Notes: Oh man, I'm really sorry for the huge delay. Work has been running me ragged, and I've spent most of my spare time lately trying to get ready for university. Speaking of University, holy crap, I leave on the 28th! And as much as I hate to say it, I think the next chapter will probably take even longer to come out. To tell the truth, along with having little time to write, I'm not quite sure where I'm going now with PF, so I'm gonna need some thinking time…

And by the way, there may be several little mistakes (the kind spellcheckers don't catch) because when I got the beta back, something messed up and I got squares instead of letters…so I had to go on what she said, and I may not have fixed all the mistakes she pointed out (and there were a lot, since I was in a hurry!!)

*Special thanks to silversun101 for beta-ing*

19: When this trailer's a rockin', don't come a knockin'

Bulma's eyes narrowed and she set her jaw, determined to stand her ground. "No" she said flatly, refusing to allow him to run again.

"Excuse me?" Vegeta hissed, stepping closer in an attempt to intimidate her. 

"I said no; I'm not leaving Vegeta." Bulma straightened her back, lifting her chin defiantly.

"You intend to defy me?" He laughed lightly, drawing himself up as every muscle in his body tightened visibly.

"Yes I do," she gulped, unable to keep her eyes from darting to the impressive show of his musculature, "and I'm not letting you get out of it again."

"It? And just what am I getting out of, little human?"

"A relationship" Bulma spat, annoyed by his mocking attitude, "with me."

"A relationship, is it?" He sounded amused, but then his eyes narrowed and he leant toward her, his face mere inches from her face. His voice dropped dangerously low. "Last time I checked, I did not attempt to get out of anything. In fact, I distinctly remember being forced out of it."

"That's a damn lie and you know it!" 

"Oh, is it?"

"Yes, Vegeta, that's an outright lie. I seem to remember a little incident at a certain someone's apartment, where that certain someone freaked and severed all contact!" She shot back, her voice rising as the retort went on. Vegeta seemed taken aback and she paused in her tirade for a moment to watch the changing expressions on his face. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but shut it immediately when he noticed her intense scrutiny. Her eyes, piercing blue, were fixed onto his face, boring holes into his skull, and for the first time in his life, he found himself absolutely unable to speak. "What are you so afraid of?" Her voice had grown soft, as had her gaze, but still, he felt unable to say a word.

Afraid? The Saiyan no Ouji was fearless…wasn't he? Yes! He was! What gave her the right to say such a thing? Weak little human hypocrite! Why, she cowered at the sight of a spider! The Saiyan no Ouji was fearless…no…no he was not. 

"I know you've lived through some pretty bad stuff…" Her gaze finally dropped to the floor, to the window, anywhere but his eyes, "and I'm not pretending to know exactly what happened to make you this way…but I know…I know…" she faltered, and Vegeta finally found his voice.

"What do you know, little Human?" He snarled, "Spit it out already then! Tell me what you know about me! Tell me how I should feel, how I should think, how I should act!" His voice rose and rose, till he was nearly yelling at her, "Tell me what it is that you know and I don't!"

"I…" she was stunned by the force in his voice, but stood her ground, once again staring him straight in the eye. "I know it's different now Vegeta…I know you're different, and I know that whatever happened in the past is exactly that; in the past!"

"You are wrong, Bulma." Vegeta turned away, his voice once again soft and sad. "It is with me forever."

"But…"

"No, I can't forget!" He spat, knowing instantly what she was going to suggest. "It is something constantly in the back of my mind an it will never leave me!"

"It doesn't have to be like that Vegeta… I know you won't forget," she paused, "but you have to know that it doesn't have to be like it was before."

Vegeta found himself standing still as Bulma stepped closer, reaching up to lay one hand, so delicate, on his bicep. Oh, how he wanted to take her in his arms at that moment! The yearning within him had grown so strong since that night at his apartment. It was getting so very hard to control himself.

"Let me help you," Bulma whispered, her hand moving up to cup his cheek, ever so gently pulling his head toward her own. She felt his body stiffen as their lips met, but he responded to her kiss just the same. Very lightly, she nibbled at his bottom lip, and shivered at his moan. Daring to take another lead, she took his hand and placed it upon her hip, before running her fingers up his arm to clutch at one broad shoulder.

Vegeta's fingers tightened around her soft flesh, squeezing gentle, while his other hand reached around her waist, subtly pulling her body closer to his own. He flattened his palm against her back, sliding it upward to press her chest tighter against his, feeling her soft breasts mold against his muscles. He grew bolder with his mouth, opening it to hers as their tongues danced together. Her kiss was like fine wine, lulling him into blissful drunkenness. 

"Damn it, where the hell are those two?" Max groused, glancing at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. "They were supposed to be here half an hour ago!" He stamped his foot, raising a cloud of fine dust from the ground of the forest set. 

"Last I saw, Bulma was planning on heading over to Vegeta's trailer to practice lines with him." Ray supplied calmly, as he sipped from a cup of coffee.

"Well, I'm going over there right now, to straighten things out!"

"I don't know if that's such a good idea Max." Ray cautioned.

"And why not?"

"One of the cameramen said he heard yelling from in there. Sounds like the two of them had a little fight, and you know what Vegeta's like when he's angry. Word is, Bulma's a little hellfire too, when she's mad about something. I wouldn't want to get in the middle of those two, or try and force them to work with one another if they're at each other's throats." He drained his coffee mug, "It might just be best to let it slide and just film the scene in the morning, after they've had a chance to cool down. Even with the whole Delaney thing, we're still ahead of schedule. One day won't matter in the end."

"I guess you're right…" Max sighed resignedly, "but if those two plan on making a habit of ditching work over their little hissy fits, you can bet there'll be Hell to pay." He nodded in affirmation of his statement, puffing up his chest as he did so. "Yep, Hell to pay."

"Of course, Max."

"Don't you start getting all sassy on me too, Ray. The last thing I need here is a mutiny." 

Vegeta blinked, wide eyed in shock, as Bulma pushed him backward onto the bed, quickly climbing on top of him before he had a chance to react. Her lips pushed hard against his own, her tongue diving into his mouth as her fingers tangled in his hair. She straddled his chest, leaning over his face as they kissed. One hand reached back behind her and began tugging at his shirt, pulling it from its neat place, tucked into his pants. 

He could easily have pushed her off, if he so desired, but truth be told, he found her aggressive behavior rather interesting, and was quite curious to see exactly what she had in mind. He sat up after she had freed his shirt from his pants, and allowed her to pull it off of him before being pushed back down onto the bed.

"I feel a little bad, Bruce," Caleb signed, stroking the other man's hair. "I mean, I just sort of abandoned Bulma at the set the other night. I mean, she didn't really know anybody…and then she had to deal with Max all by herself…"

"He can be pretty pushy…" Bruce agreed, "but Bulma's a tough girl, she can handle herself. And besides, she told you to go." He smiled, good ole' Bulma! And to think, he had once been jealous, thinking that she and Caleb were dating. 

"Yeah, I guess you're right…But I still should've gone with her today…I mean, first day of filming…it's got to be tough. And especially with the Vegeta situation like it is…"

Vegeta clenched his teeth together, trying to hold back a groan as Bulma pushed ground her pelvis downward against his. She held his wrists down against his sides so he couldn't grab at her, again, a hold he could have easily broken, yet her attempt at dominance was rather appealing to him. She _wanted_ him and it was her intention to _take_ him. 

There was nothing one sided about the coupling that was to come. She was actively pursuing sexual activity, and not merely permitting it. 

Bulma pushed her hips downward again, rubbing herself against his growing erection. She could feel the hard length, straining against the material of his pants, and her nipples grew hard at the knowledge of his arousal. She took his captive hands, bringing them up to cup her breasts as she continued to writhe against him. She guided him through squeezing and teasing, and when she left him to his own devices, was quite pleased to find that he was intent on getting her shirt off. She lifted her arms, never stopping the motion of her hips, and allowed him to pull the top up and over her head. Vegeta had sat up in the process, and now one arm had gone around her waist, pulling her tighter against him, as the other kneaded and fondled one breast.

He kissed her fiercely, his passion heightening as he took in her soft moans of pleasure. Her other breast was his next target, and he descended like a hawk to catch one straining, silk covered nipple in his mouth. The hand around her waist slid up to fumble with the clasp of her bra…how had the damn things worked? He had seen in a million times on those late night movies, but damned if he could get it open himself!

With a growl, he tore the flimsy garment from her body, delighting in the surprised squeak she emitted. "Vegeta, that was expensooooooohhhhh…"she broke off into a moan he flicked the bare bud with his tongue, before sucking it into his hot mouth. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, squeezing and scratching, while the tempo of her hips increased, rocking their bodies together in just the right places.

Her motions, her sounds, her scent, everything was driving him mad! She was so vibrant and lively and wanton, he couldn't stand it! He had never been with a woman like her before, and the sensation was driving him wild, making him want her more and more with each passing second. He had never thought it could be like this; so passionate…so…mutual! It was amazing! He felt more satisfaction drawing one little moan from her lips than he had ever gotten from the whole act with anyone before.

One of her hand slipped down from his shoulder to swipe over his nipple, plucking at it with her fingers. Vegeta started as the pleasant sensation rippled through his flesh, causing the little bud to harden. Bulma pushed him down again, so that he was lying on his back, and leant over him. Her tongue flicked out over his nipple and she let out a sultry little giggle as he sucked in his breath. He had never before been touched in the manner that she was touching him, almost as if she were exploring his body, mapping his every contour and committing it to memory.

She excited him, enthralled him, and captured him with her being; she made him want her more than anything he had ever desired before and her little play at dominance only made his need for her greater.

Her tongue tickled its way down his belly, under the waist of his pants as far as it could reach. Her hands followed, rubbing and caressing their way down between his legs, over the bulge in his jeans. He hissed at her teasing nature, but did his best to lie still, allowing her to do as she pleased to him. It was too interesting a game to stop, and he was curious to see what she would do to him. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of her warm tongue, gliding over his flesh, but started at the feeling of his pants loosening. He craned his neck, looking down over his body to see that she had undone his button and was in the process of pulling down his zipper.

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*SORRY GUYS, LEMONY BIT!* We all know FFN's rules, and I'm not about to risk getting booted. If you'd like to read the NC-17 version of this chapter, please go ** into my author profile and click on the link under my homepage. Sorry for the inconvenience, but for some reason, the link to the chapter will not show up when I upload the document on FFN.**

Sam, a young stagehand, stared at Vegeta's trailer door, as a red-hot blush consumed his cheeks. From the earlier yelling, everyone had assumed that Bulma and Vegeta were involved in a heated argument, but there was no doubt to Sam that if it had been a fight, it had morphed into something entirely different, and had become no less heated. 

He gulped, unsure of what to do. He had been sent personally by Max to summon the two 'stars' and though he didn't want to lose his chance at recognition by the higher ups, there was a definite reluctance to break up whatever was taking place in Vegeta's trailer. He heard the squeaking springs, he heard the moans, the ooohs, and ahhhs and 'oh, right there's, and he knew that it would not be a good idea to break things up…but what to tell Max? The truth was an option, but he feared the dark actor too much to go about spreading the story of hot sex between costars. Luckily, the decision would not be left up to him.

"Where the hell have you been?" Max yelled, coming up behind the young man. "I sent you to find Bulma and Vegeta over twenty minutes ago!" It was then that he noticed the sounds coming from within the trailer, and he too, felt the heat spread across his cheeks. "Oh…I see." And the two stood together, puzzling out the sticky situation, all the while staring at the trailer door.

****

WHOOPS, MORE LEMON! 

Vegeta shifted to pull her closer into him, craving the closeness that had never before come after sex. He wrapped his arm around her body, not quite sure of what to do or say. It was an awkward moment for him, but at the same time, he had never felt so comfortable before. She felt good to hold, he decided, and didn't plan on releasing her any time soon. There was an irresistible urge within him to just lay and hold her, and though he had fought tooth and nail to suppress the many other urges he had had concerning the little woman…this one was worth giving in to.

Bulma settled her body against Vegeta's, making herself comfortable within his grasp. They were both sweaty and hot as hell, but somehow the heat didn't bother her. In fact, the parts of her that were not touching him felt almost unbearably cold. She shivered, and he drew her closer.

"So I think maybe we should leave them be." Max said finally, still not taking his eyes off the door. The noises from inside had ceased.

"Yeah…probably." Sam replied with a nod. He too, could not take his eyes off the door.

"There you are!" Ray, the casting director, came up behind the two stunned men. "Everyone over at the set is getting really impatient! Are Bulma and Vegeta in there? Why haven't you gotten them yet?" He asked, striding toward the trailer door. "You two are acting awfully strange, you know that?" He raised his hand to knock at the door.

"NO, don't!" Max shouted, but it was too late. Ray's hand connected with the door, in a resounding pound that, it seemed to Sam, would deafen him.

"Oh, we are so dead…" The stagehand sighed. It was just not his lucky day.

Again, sorry for the shortness and extreme delay, but I really hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway!

****

Mp3 of the Day: Samantha Fox "I Only Wanna Be With You." Or as my friends and I call it, "The Clamato Song".


	20. Don't hold your breath

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

**Author's Notes:** Okay, so some of you know I started university this year, some of you don't…but now you do! *giggle* Anyway, I first moved in here in September, and since about 80% of my friends from home are also here, I was always with them, and not writing…That was just plain lazy of me, so sorry. That lasted till about mid October, when mid-terms rolled in (I was about 1/3 done the chapter by then), so I was really busy studying all the time, and since the semesters are so short, by the time mid-terms were over, it was already time to start studying for finals, so that's why this chapter has taken so long to come out. A new semester has started, and I'll say it now that I'm going to put school before fanfiction, but I'll definitely try much harder to get some writing done in between so that you guys don't have to wait another 3 months for an update.

I just wanted to say thanks for being so patient, and for letting me know that even after a 3 month dead period, there are still people who are interested in this fic! And again, sorry for the long wait!!!

***Special thanks to Bulma Peacecraft and Kat8125 for beta-ing***

**20: Don't hold your breath.**

One black eye snapped open, but it was hardly visible, so deep was the frown on Vegeta's face. Half a moment after that, he was standing, having thrown off the covers and stood all in one fluid movement. One, two, three quick strides and he was at the door, hand poised to turn the knob and dismember whatever fool had knocked on the door.

"Vegeta…" a timid voice came from the rumpled bed, "don't you think you should at least put on pants before you answer the door?" He looked over at Bulma, then down at himself, and shrugged.

"I suppose so." He bent down to grab his jeans, slipping them up over his legs.

"VEGETA! BULMA!" Ray called outside, oblivious to Sam and Max's choked warnings. He pounded on the door again, unaware that the Saiyan stood a mere inch from the other side.

"Vegeta…don't do anything rash…" Bulma began, but it was lost on the prince, who took a deep breath, before throwing the door open with all his might, smashing Ray right in the face, and knocking him down in the process.

"OH FUCK!" he swore, cupping his nose in pain, while trying to stop the bleeding. "I think you broke my nose!"

"Oops. Maybe you shouldn't stand so close to the door." Vegeta turned to see Bulma peeking over his shoulder, wearing nothing but his shirt to cover herself. She gasped in dismay and made a move to help Ray, but was unable to bypass Vegeta, who stood stock still in the doorway. 

Ray, hearing the sarcastic tone in the actor's voice, stood up, ready to fight. He had meant to do it! "Why you little…" he trailed off, meeting Vegeta's gaze. Suddenly his resolve was lost. He looked to the side and saw Bulma, saw her long, naked legs, saw her clothing; Vegeta's shirt, saw the way it slipped ever so slightly to the edge of her shoulder, and knew there was nothing underneath. He realized his mistake instantly, and took a step backward, away from the muscled little man.

"You'd better get yourself to a medic, don't you think?" Vegeta asked, coldly gesturing toward Ray's nose.

"Uh, yeah, I'd better." He stammered, "We'll uh, catch up later…or something…I guess." He turned and walked briskly away, trying to stay as dignified as he possibly could; not an easy feat for a man with a bright red face and blood streaming out of his nose. The others followed quickly, not wishing to face Vegeta's wrath as the poor casting director had.

"Vegeta…that really wasn't nice…" Bulma said, as soon as the trailer door was closed. "And probably not a good career move either."

"Oh really?" The sarcasm was thick in his deep voice, "I think it was quite nice of me, considering what I could have done to him."

"You know, you're a real ass sometimes. That's not the way we do stuff here! You can't just go around beating the crap out of people and expecting them to like you afterward!"

"Who said anything about wanting to be liked?" Vegeta asked, pulling off his jeans and looking around for his boxers. What an uncomfortable mistake that had been! 

"Ugh, you are impossible, you know that? I don't know why I even bother!" Bulma snapped, tossing her clothes on as quickly as possible. She threw Vegeta's shirt on the bed and stalked out of the trailer. "I'm going to see how Ray is doing." Was the last thing he heard before the door slammed in his face.

Vegeta rolled his eyes and continued getting dressed. Lord, how he hated Earth sometimes! All of their damn customs and rules! Frail old men were running the planet, while the young and strong were trapped in useless, dead end lives by their fool social structure. He shook his head, best not to dwell on things, and looked around the small trailer. It looked as if a tornado had ripped through in the middle of the night…and it absolutely reeked of sex. 

Sex…the thought made Vegeta blush, just the tiniest imperceptible little bit. It had been…amazing. The woman had been so aggressive and loud; the thought of her naked body straddling his, their searing flesh grinding together, her moans, so passionate and sweet to his ears… Vegeta shuddered as a wave of heat washed through his body; every inch of his skin tingled, screaming for her touch. 

It had been unlike anything he had ever imagined…and within her, everything seemed to disappear. Memories and thoughts were gone, it was just passion and pleasure, giving and taking in ecstasy. He closed his eyes, picturing, reliving the moment again…he wanted her again, over and over forever.

"Ray…" Bulma poked her head around the door frame guiltily. "How's your nose?"

"Oh, broken and hurt as hell, but the doc said it's not too bad a break, so it shouldn't take too long to heal. Probably won't mess up my face too much either." He replied, nervously looking around for Vegeta.

"I'm really sorry Ray…Vegeta's…well…he's…I…I can't really explain. I feel really bad." She sighed, sitting on the hospital bed next to him. 

"Hey, don't worry 'bout it Bulma. I've had a lot worse in my time. I knew the guy had a temper," he laughed, "it's why I hired him."

It wasn't until much later that night that Vegeta saw Ray, with his bruised swollen face, a thick white bandage pasted across the top of his nose. He wanted very badly to keep walking, to just ignore what he had done, but Bulma's words came back to him, edging his conscience out of the little hidey-hole in his mind. _You can't just go around beating the crap out of people and expecting them to like you afterward!_ "Ugh, humans…" he grumped, and made his way over to the injured casting director…after all, he did owe Ray his job.

"Oh, Vegeta…nice to see you."

"How is it?" The Saiyan demanded, gesturing toward Ray's bandaged nose. 

"Oh, it'll be fine in the end."

"I…" Sorry…he couldn't bring himself to say the words. "I could have done a lot worse. You're lucky." He snapped instead, before stalking off. Ray turned to the sound of a soft, feminine giggle behind him.

"That means he's sorry." Bulma laughed, "But don't hold your breath waiting to hear him actually say it."

"All's forgiven." Ray said, wryly, and made a mental note not to cast any more psychos for movies that he was going to be directly involved in. 

"Hey Bulma!" Both turned to see Marille heading toward them. "Bulma, have you got a spare minute? I need you to come and try on your gown for the final scene!"

"Oh, sure Marille, no problem! I don't think we're shooting any of the queen's scenes today, are we?"

"Nope! Now come on!" The dainty costume designer grabbed the sleeve of her shirt and practically dragged her off. "Max has been on my ass for a week now about this damn gown, but it was his dumb idea to start shooting before all the costumes were complete…ugh, directors!" She continued raving for a moment, before stopping quite suddenly in her tracks. "Say, what happened to Ray's nose?"

"So Vegeta, you ready to start?" Max asked as the Saiyan came out of the makeshift dressing rooms. Vegeta nodded. "Good. Now, for this scene, remember you've been playing about as Satan for about five hundred years now and you're just a little bit crazy…not like, loopy crazy, but just a little off your rocker, right?" Vegeta nodded again. "Okay, so finally you're seeing what you think is the reincarnation of Aria and—"

"I know what's going on." Vegeta snapped, cutting him off. "Now can we just get the scene done?" Max nodded.

Vegeta stood, silent and still, staring into a pool of murky water. He was in a cave-like setting, walls, floor and ceiling all made of rock, but in the background, one could see an ornately carved wooden chair, a matching table, and a few other nondescript items that one may expect to find in Hell's Palace. 

"Show me," Vegeta hissed, staring intently into the pool, "Show me where she is, damn you!" His voice rose to a thundering yell, and he slammed his fist against the nearby wall, cracking the rock.

"He wasn't supposed to do that." A stagehand whispered.

"Shush; look at the effect of anguish and power he's creating!" Max whispered back, and then turned his eyes back to the actor.

Vegeta grimaced slightly; he hadn't meant to break the set…someone would definitely yell at him for that later. No one had yelled 'cut' yet though, so he drew his arm against himself, cradling his fist in his other hand and working it into the scene. He seemed very calm and serene. "Damn you!" He shouted up at the roof in anguish. "You're doing this, aren't you? Show me! Show me where she is! I did nothing to deserve this!" He fell to his knees, pounding at the ground, screaming and growling in a rage.

He sat, after a moment, breathing heavily, staring murderously into the pond, willing it to show him what he desired to see. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back actor's tears, and peered once again at the water, to see it rippling and changing. There was a girl, in its depths, looking for all the world as if she had drowned there.

Vegeta's breathing grew faster and more erratic, and he jumped up, never taking his eyes off the girl's face. "Who is she? Where can I find her? I must know! I must find her!" He crouched down and took off one glove, reaching his hand out toward the apparition's cheek. "My love…I will find you and at last…we will be together…" His fingers touched the water, and she was gone.

Of course, she had never really been there in the first place. That sort of thing would be added in later, with computer animation. 

"Great scene Vegeta, very good job with the improvisation; I really liked the bit with the wall. Very emotional." Max said, coming up to the actor. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to make a quick change to the next scene…" 

Two days and several scenes later, Vegeta stood on set, pondering the next scene. Bulma sat off to the side; he found himself happy to see her, as she had gone home to work the evening of their coupling and he had not seen her since. Her arrival that morning had been rather awkward for him; he hadn't been quite sure how to act around her, and it had been an immense relief that Max had prodded everyone to work so quickly.

In the next scene Vegeta would have to kiss someone…and it was not Bulma. He didn't quite like the thought of it…Kali was…well, she was pleasant and pretty, but he didn't know her well at all…and besides that, she was not Bulma.

There was a strange sickness in the pit of his belly, and it irritated him to know that it was not the thought of intimacy that bothered him, but more so the thought of betraying the woman. It wasn't as if he could simply refuse to do the scene though…it was a very important scene.

"Okay crew, let's get rolling here!" Max shouted, snapping Vegeta out of his thoughts. "Places please, people! Kali, remember, you're confused and scared. Vegeta, you're determined, angry, and just a little nuts!"

Kali giggled at Max's comment, and smiled prettily over at Vegeta. "I always get butterflies in my stomach before kissing scenes, don't you?" Vegeta shrugged and grunted, taking his place on set. Butterflies…it was more like spaceships were blasting around in his stomach. 

Bulma scowled at the actress from her chair off set. "Ooh, look at me Vegeta, I get butterflies! Ooh!" she mimicked nastily to herself around a mouthful of blueberry danish. 

"What was that Bulma?" Max asked, turning around.

"Oh, nothing." She smiled sweetly and took a sip of her coffee. "I was just muttering lines to myself. You know, to help me remember."

"Who…who are you?" Kali's voice was shaky. "What is this place?" She looked around, terrified.

"Hm…"Vegeta snorted, "I suppose it makes sense that you wouldn't remember right away…You didn't know me any of the other times either," he laughed darkly, "not consciously at least. But your soul, my dear Aria, is always drawn to me."

"Who's Aria? Buddy, I think you've got the wrong girl. I've never met you before in my life!"

"Oh, not in this life, of course not." He laughed, reaching a hand out to stroke her trembling chin. "I shall enlighten you, my dear girl." He snarled at her as she tried to jerk her chin away. "My name is Dominic Satayn, and I suppose you could say we are in Hell."

"S…Satan? Oh God, this is some weird kind of dream!" she shrieked, "I'm getting out of here!" She turned suddenly away from him, taking a few steps before being captured.

"Get back here!" he roared, yanking her back by the arm and slamming her against the wall. "I've waited 500 damned years to find you, and now that I have, I'm not letting you go anywhere!" Kali cowered in his arms, letting out a cry of pain, and *Dominic's* face fell immediately.

"You're hurting me" she whimpered.

"I…I didn't mean it Aria." He broke into a half sob as his hands roamed her body, running up and down her arms in an attempt to soothe the pain. "Forgive me, forgive me, I'm so sorry," he sobbed, growing ever closer; "I didn't mean to hurt you. I would never hurt you Aria." He was almost yelling then, before his voice dropped into a very quiet whisper. "I wouldn't ever hurt you Aria…I lived for you…I died for you…for 500 years, my love, and we shall be together forever, my love…" He continued babbling, half whispering, half crying in a crazed jumble as his face drew closer to hers.

Kali shrank back into the wall as his lips met hers, ever so gently.

"Aaaand CUT!"

Vegeta tore his lips away immediately, resisting the urge to spit, and took a few steps to distance himself from the actress. Bulma breathed out a shaky sigh of relief; she had anxiously watched the entire scene, clenching and unclenching her fists nervously. She had wondered since first reading the script, how she would react to seeing Vegeta kiss another woman, and the thought had been driving her mad since two days ago. _Give yourself a pat on the back;_ she thought to herself, picking up her mug of coffee, _you handled that rather well._

"I think I'd like to try that scene again," Max mused to himself, while Bulma's hands clenched tightly around the mug of scalding hot coffee. "The kiss wasn't quite right." He nodded to himself, unaware of the stricken look on Bulma's face. "Vegeta, I think we need to do that one over again." Bulma felt her muscles tighten up dangerously.

Vegeta looked long and hard at Max, his eyes narrowed down to tiny slits. "No," he said, "that one was good enough." Job or no job, he wasn't kissing that puny little girl again. It wasn't that she was unpleasant…not at all. In fact, if he hadn't met Bulma first, he might have even found himself attracted to her…but he didn't like the way it made him feel to kiss her. 

Max blinked, unsure of how to respond to Vegeta's bold declaration. He stuttered and sputtered for a moment, before finally mumbling "Oh…Okay, I guess," sounding almost puzzled. "If you think it was good…" 

Bulma managed to stop herself from throwing her mug of coffee at his head, just in time. 

There's the chapter, sorry again for the lateness!

**Mp3 of the Day: **Today, I'm going with a song from the Escaflowne movie. It's called "Sora's Song" or "Sora's Folktale" but either one should yield some results. For the artist, type in either Escaflowne or Yoko Kanno.


	21. Favourites

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

****

Author's Notes: Okay…I took another butt-load of time to update…Things have been weird for me in the past couple of months, and I've been through some rough stuff, including two deaths in the family; my dog of 16 years in February, and my Grandfather very recently, not to mention midterms in late January and late February, and now Finals. I'm sorry about the long wait (again) and I really hope it won't happen again. I'm home from University now, so aside from my job, I should have a decent amount of time to write, provided I can keep the creative juices flowing. 

*Special thanks to Kat8125 and Bulma Peacecraft for beta-ing!*

21: Favourites

"Bulma, darling," Kali Delmar cooed, linking her arm though Bulma's as they walked off the set, "filming is over in two weeks, and we hardly know each other!"

"I hardly know anyone here," Bulma admitted, sheepishly, "aside from Vegeta, I mean…And well, when Bruce comes out to help Marille. I've just been so busy, running back and forth between Capsule Corp and the movie set." She sighed, heavily, "It's not as if Vegeta is a spectacular host either."

"Yes, Vegeta…" Kali trailed off, wetting her bottom lip with a quick sweep of her tongue. "Poor girl, you must be so stressed. Hey! Why don't you and I go have a girls' night out tonight! We'll go to a club or something, get to know each other. I'd really like us to be friends." She smiled sweetly, and Bulma nodded, slightly pleased. Kali had never been very friendly toward her; it's not that she was icy; they just didn't really talk much. It didn't really seem to Bulma that they had a lot in common, but it would be nice to have a little estrogen fest. 

"Sure, that'd be fun. I've had a severe lack of female company lately. Do you know any good places around here?"

"Oh sure, I know all the hottest joints." She twisted a finger in her hair. "We'll drive into Pepper City and hit a few clubs. It'll be totally fun. Meet me in my trailer at eight, okay? Anyway, I've got to go! Toodles, hun!"

__

Hell, Bulma thought to herself, watching Kali wiggle off, _I've had a severe lack of any company lately._ She and Vegeta had been a little awkward lately. They hadn't seen much of each other lately; Capsule Corp was running Bulma ragged. There was always something that needed to be taken care of, and of course her father, the actual head of the company, was always to busy tottering around in his lab to be of much use. All she wanted was some time alone with Vegeta, but having to work all day and then drive back into West Capital City every night was making that impossible. _He must think I'm purposely ignoring him,_ she sighed to herself as she slumped toward the makeup trailer. She had a scene coming up, and Good Kami, did she ever feel like just throwing in the towel. 

If there ever was a time to throw a movie-star tantrum, this was it. 

Vegeta had watched the short conversation from a distance, covertly eavesdropping with his superior Saiyan ears. Not much of a host, eh? Well it wasn't his fault she was never around! Damn woman, always twisting things to suit herself. Besides that, what did he know about entertaining a female? Especially a human one! He couldn't just keep her in bed all day…although it was a pleasant little idea. But that was beside the point! Back at home in West Capitol, she had never expected to be entertained; she had occupied herself, and occasionally dragged him into accompanying her while he was on a break from training. 

Thinking of training, Vegeta frowned and ran a mental check on his power levels. Ever since this damn movie business had started, he had barely been training. At least with the modeling, he had been blessed with a few hours to himself every day, but on set, it was up with the sun and filming late, often till the wee hours of the morning, which left him the option to either train right through, or catch a few hours of sleep. And though stubborn he was stubborn about it, even a Saiyan prince needed his rest after a long day. 

Despite her adventurous and wild youth, Bulma had never been big on the club scene, and she felt a little awkward, moving to the beat on the dance floor. It was so crowded, and every time she moved, she couldn't help but to make physical contact with some sweaty stranger, usually with some inappropriate part of her body, or even more embarrassingly, those same parts of other people's bodies.

Nevertheless, she was enjoying herself. The only social functions she ever saw those days were stuffy Capsule Corporation dinners and the occasional chat with her secretary. There were sporadic charity balls; long evenings of waltzing and fox-trotting around the dance floor with men twice her age, who talked of nothing but business, and even more appalling, the men who were her age and talked of nothing but themselves. 

What was even worse was that she got out so little that she actually enjoyed herself. 

A hand closed around her arm, and she looked over to see Kali, attempting to lead her off the dance floor. "I hate it when they play music you can't dance to!" She exclaimed, finding them a table and motioning for a waitress. "Vodka and cranberry please," she said, then turning back toward Bulma, snorted, "they only do it so everyone flocks back to the bar to get drunker!"

"Looks like you're falling right into their trap." Bulma said, dryly. 

"Well I'll be, I am!" Kali laughed, a little drunkenly. "Oh well, a good time's a good time! Not like I can't afford it!" She giggled, pounding her hand on the table. "Ooh, Bulma, I think those guys at bar are checking us out. Act cool."

"They're all yours Kal," Bulma sipped her ice-water. "The last thing I need is to pick up some drunk at a bar."

"Bulma, I never knew you were such a downer. But oh well!" she brightened, "we can have a little girl-talk. So tell me about Vegeta."

"Vegeta? What do you want to know?"

"Oh, I dunno. What's his middle name?" Bulma shrugged. "Okay, favourite colour?" Another shrug. "Food? Movie? Television show? Book?" All shrugs. "Sex position?" Bulma nearly spit out her drink. "Ha, I got you, missy!" Kali laughed, and then straightened quickly. "So what's the deal? I hear from people on the set that you two are supposed to be real tight, but you don't know anything about the guy. I mean, didn't you two used to live together? How's it even possible that you could know so little about a guy you used to live with?"

"Why do you want to know so much about Vegeta and I anyway?" Bulma asked, getting suspicious. She had noticed Kali's eyes wander, and the sudden inquisition was a little bothersome.

"Oh, just curious." She smiled in a most definitely devilish way and batted her eyes playfully at Bulma. It was no innocent curiosity. 

"Curiosity killed the cat." The retort had come a little colder that she meant it to, but Bulma didn't care. The message had to be sent.

"Ooh, a little defensive, are we?" A nasty laugh and mocking smile. "I can take a little competition."

Needless to say, the rest of the night wasn't all that fun.

Vegeta awoke at 3am, startled by the loud pounding of two fists against his door. Groggily, he stumbled over, not even bothering to put anything on over the boxers he wore. "Vegeta, we need to talk!" Bulma burst into the cramped trailer as soon as he opened the door, nearly knocking the sleepy Saiyan over in the process.

"Woman, it's 3am. What the hell do you want?"

"What's your favorite colour?" Silence. "And your middle name?" She continued, while he stared at her, completely dumbfounded. "Well?" She tapped her foot impatiently, "Are you going to answer me?" He continued to look at her, silently, observing her behaviour, trying to figure out what had gotten into her.

"Are you drunk?" He asked, finally. 

"No…" she answered sheepishly, realizing how absurd her questions must seem to him. "I just don't know anything about you…" she trailed off, looking down at the floor, fidgeting under his intense gaze.

"Red," he sighed after a moment, "And I don't have one. We did not bother ourselves with multiple names."

"No more than one name, huh? Well how did you tell two people with the same name apart, huh?"

"It was not a problem. Nobody had the same name." He padded over to the bed, crawling under the covers once more.

"What? How's that even possible?" Bulma questioned, kicking off her shoes as she followed him.

"A Saiyan woman would create a name for her child and record it, along with his information, in the _Rakhesh_." Seeing her puzzled look, he went on, "It was…like a book…many books, dating back to the dawn of Saiyan civilization. Once a name was recorded, no other was allowed to assume it."

"Sounds pretty inconvenient," Bulma yawned, crawling under the covers and snuggling up to Vegeta.

"It was our way." His words were somewhat clipped, but he continued with a softer tone. "The only exception was within the royal family. The heir to the throne is always named Vegeta."

"How'd you tell the Vegeta's apart?"

"We had titles."

"Like what?

"My father was _Vegeta se Lesh_; 'Vegeta the Black.' I…I am _Vegeta se Raeden Tagh_…" His eyes darkened, and when he spoke again, his voice was bleak and bitter. "Vegeta the Golden Warrior." A deep sigh escaped his lips. "Do you have any more silly questions for me, woman?"

"No…G'night Vegeta." He didn't answer. 

When Bulma awoke the next morning, the space beside her was empty. "Shit…" she moaned aloud, "What time is it?"

"Almost noon," Vegeta's unexpected voice muttered from the table. 

"Oh, I thought you were supposed to be filming…"

"Key word; _supposed_. That other damn female is hung-over and refused to get her lazy ass out of bed." Bulma smiled to herself, imagining the actress sprawled out pasty face hunched over, vomiting into a stinky old bucket. That'd teach her!

Things were uneventful for the next several weeks as filming came to a close. Although her scenes had long ago been finished, Bulma often came out to the set, much to the displeasure of Kali Delmar, who, try as she might, could not get her handsome co-star to even utter a complete sentence to her off camera.

"Mom, Dad…I have something very important to tell you." Caleb's heart was pounding so hard, he could feel it all the way down in his toes. He wiped sweaty palms on his pant legs as he waited for his parents to sit down. Today was the day. It was time they knew. 

"What is it, dear?" Mrs. VanDios smiled expectantly, a hopeful glitter in her eyes. Maybe today would be the day he finally announced marriage plans! Mr. VanDios looked at his wife's twinkling gaze, then at his son's grim expression, and wished he weren't there.

"I…I've met someone." Mrs. VanDios squealed with delight at the words, completely ignoring his shadowed expression.

"Really?" Her son nodded, "What does she do? How old is she? When can we meet her? What will you name the children?" She gushed.

"Slow down a little dear." Caleb's father patted his wife's hand. "Now, why don't we at least find out her name, hmm?"

Caleb took a deep, shuddering breath, and swallowed, before uttering the words that would change his life forever. "Bruce. His name is Bruce."

Mrs. VanDios nearly fainted. 

"How does it feel, knowing there's no more filming to be done?" Max's shouts were met by cheers from the cast and crew, all gathered for a final-day party. "Just think, in a few months, this thing'll be up on the big screen!" He laughed, taking a swig of champagne. 

"So, how're you feeling about all this?" Bulma asked, giving Vegeta's shoulders a quick squeeze from behind. 

"I'm glad it's all over." He groused, wondering why he had allowed himself to be dragged to the little human get together. He had wanted to train, but the wily woman at his side had somehow conned him into coming with her. She had said she couldn't go without a date, whatever the hell that was. He took a sip of the weak human alcohol that was being passed around and wrinkled his nose in distaste. 

Bulma shyly grabbed his hand, testing the waters. Although the news of their relationship was widespread and very much public knowledge, he still frowned upon her displays of affection outside of private settings. The alcohol must have affected him more than he had thought, because he found himself enjoying the soft, warm skin against his own, so much that he allowed her to continue with the human gesture of 'hand holding.'

Kali watched from a short distance, grumbling to herself. In the past several weeks, she had done everything humanly possibly to try and attract the darkly handsome Vegeta, but to no avail! What was it? Was she not pretty enough? Smart enough? Slutty enough? …No, she was definitely slutty enough. She took a hefty swig of her champagne, trying to figure it out. 

"I hope to see you all at the premiere in a few months!" Max shouted, "Now, let's just have ourselves a good time!" He jumped off of the table he had been using as a makeshift stage and got to mingling. "Bulma, Vegeta! Glad to see you two came!" He smiled, heading in their direction. "I just wanted to thank you two, for all the hard work you've put into this. I don't think I could have found two better fits for Dominic and Aria. Will you be at the premier?"

"Definitely!" Bulma gushed, already imagining how she'd look, walking down the red carpet. Beside her, the Saiyan let out a grunt. It meant yes.

"I suppose I'll have to be your 'date' for that too, won't I?" Vegeta groused, as soon as Max walked away.

"Aww, Vegeta, are you asking me to be your date?" She teased, fluttering her eyelashes. "Why, I'd be delighted to go with you!"

Caleb smiled, quite pleased with himself. His mother had been speechless, probably for the first time in her life. He had told them that if they wanted to talk, or if they had questions, he was perfectly willing to sit down with them at a later date, as he had a very important meeting to get to. He had said goodbye then, and driven off without another word. The ball was in their court now. When they were ready to accept who he was, they would call him. They were good people, his parents, if a little overbearing. They would call soon.

"So Vegeta, you're a success now. Ready to move back in?"

"No." Vegeta said, bluntly. "No I'm not. For all we know, this movie could be a flop." He stated, enjoying the feeling of her soft body pressed against his. 

"But…don't you want to come back to Capsule Corp. with me Vegeta?" Bulma turned to look at him, trying to figure out the strange enigma of a man she lay in bed with.

"I can't," he said simply, "not yet."

Mp3 of the Day: "The Top of the Morning" by Mike Oldfield

A little short, I know…Sorry! I can't promise anything, but I'm thinking that Pseudo Ferocity will come to an end sometime within the next 1-3 chapters, so if there's any unresolved conflicts, or something you just plain want to know more about, please tell me! 


	22. Going Home

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of the character appearing in the manga or television show. Nor am I making any profit off of this story.

****

Author's Notes: I took a long time again…sorry.

Special thanks to Bulma Peacecraft for beta-ing

22. Going Home.

Yamcha couldn't help but notice that Vegeta looked very handsome in a tux. It irked him…especially since it was obvious that Bulma had also noticed. It wasn't that he was bitter…well okay, he was a little bitter that he had been dumped for _Vegeta_, but that was beside the point. The real point was that it made him uncomfortable to know that his sweet, if a little overbearing, innocent, if a little lewd, Bulma had become involved with a killer…and not just any killer! She was –discreetly– holding hands with the very man who had send him to the spirit plane!

Yamcha sighed, not for the first time that night. He couldn't help but notice that they made a striking couple.

Vegeta's frown deepened as yet another flash went off in his face. This 'premier' business was a pain in the ass. He was sure his picture had been taken at least a thousand times, each noisy photographer clamouring for the best shot. _Let them take their silly pictures,_ he thought_, let these little fools worship me!_ His frown began to lift into a slight smirk at the thought, but quickly returned as the flashes increased tenfold.

Goku's mouth watered as he took in the spectacle…it was so beautiful, so magnificent! He felt privileged to behold such an extraordinary work of art! The buffet table…

Bulma primped and posed for the cameras, revelling in all the attention she was getting. Heiress of a multibillion-dollar company, and a movie star too! What a life! Even though her part was teeny tiny and she'd probably never set foot on a sound stage again…but what did that matter? Bulma loved the camera and it loved her right back, which was most unfortunate for Vegeta, whom she had attached herself to. To him, the camera was like that annoying little dog who tries to hump everyone's legs…he hated it, but my oh my, did it ever love him, and no matter what he did, he couldn't shake it off!

More cameras went off in his face, trying to catch the rare smile that appeared at such a strange thought. _This is going to be a long night…_ He looked at Bulma, inwardly pleased that she was enjoying herself so much, even if it meant spending the whole damn night before these blasted picture machines.

Bulma watched Vegeta, slyly, out of the corner of her eye. He had been surprisingly well behaved so far, though she could tell his mood was becoming increasingly fowl with every flash of light. But then again, he was simply full of surprises that night. She had nearly fainted in shock earlier that evening, when he had come to pick her up, in a sleek, black, stretch limousine, of all things! No doubt, it had been Bruce's idea, but the mere fact that Vegeta had bothered to make the effort was surprising. Though they had been 'dating' for lack of a better word, since shooting ended, she had always been the one to travel. There had been a few times where he had hauled her up into his arms and took to the sky, but it was usually due to frustration and impatience with the pace of traffic. It was hardly romantic, to be dragged into the sky by an irritated Saiyan, amidst the honking and yelling of irate motorists.

Bruce winced as Caleb's hand tightened painfully around his own. The poor man was stiff as a board, he was so nervous, as the couple stepped out of their limo. Bruce was his usual bubbly self, though he attempted to tone it down, for Caleb's sake. The businessman was understandably nervous, it being his first time out with Bruce, as a couple. It wouldn't be long before his colleagues and associates got word of his new relationship, and he was worried about the potential impact it may have on his business relationships. He felt Bruce squeeze his hand, and he let out a sigh, trying to relax. He was out, he was in love, and he was still the same man he had been before, so damn anyone who couldn't see that!

Chi Chi stood next to Goku, who was gorging himself, quietly shaking her head at the extravagance of the whole event. "Tsk tsk…For all the money they spent on this carpet alone, we could have those holes in the roof patched, the faucet fixed…we could just buy a whole new house!" she exclaimed jealously. She felt terribly out of place in the home-made satin dress that she had laboured over for weeks, even though Bulma had assured her that she looked as lovely as anyone else there.

"Aww, Chi Chi," Goku swallowed a mouthful of food and draped his arm across her shoulders and pulled her close. She stumbled awkwardly, but he didn't seem to notice. "That's just the way these movie people are. Everything's about the big, flashy lights, and who paid the most money for what they're wearing." Chi Chi's face fell a little. The fabric of her dress, though lovely, had been a bargain at 50% off the regular price. Goku squeezed her, and she noticed how the fabric of his tux strained across his oversized muscles.

Bulma had generously offered to pay for their attire, but prideful as she was, Chi Chi had refused. She wasn't the type to accept handouts, so she had worked for weeks on her dress, which was simple enough, just time consuming. Goku's tuxedo, however, had proven difficult. The man was never around, always off training, never thinking of the impending humiliation of not having anything to wear to "Bulma's big Hollywood-movie party", as she liked to call it. So, Chi Chi had improvised, guessing measurements here and there, sometimes sneaking into their bedroom at night with her tape measure. The suit had turned out well enough, thought it was a little tight in some places, and a little big in others. No one at the party really seemed to notice…perhaps only because no one was really paying much attention to the unknown couple.

"Man, look at this place!" Yamcha raved, startling Chi Chi out of her thoughts. "I still can't believe Bulma managed to get us on the guest list! Hell, I still can't believe she even invited me!" He laughed, stealing a pastry from Goku's overloaded plate. He was doing his best to remain jovial, in spite of his past with Bulma, though he was surprised at the tiny pangs that rattled his heart when he caught her in his eye, laughing and talking, one hand entwined with Vegeta's. He thought that he had got over her in the past few months.

"Hey!" Goku protested, as Yamcha popped the pastry in his mouth. "Those were my favourite ones!"

"You snooze, you loose, old buddy." Yamcha smiled boyishly, giving Goku a quick slap on the back. "Now if you'll excuse me," he straightened his tie, "I'm going to go mingle…" He wandered off into the crowd, and it wasn't long before he had amassed a following of young starlets, all hanging on his every word. Hey, it was time for him to move on, wasn't it? Even so, he found himself sneaking glances at Bulma and her moody new boyfriend.

"So, what's it like, dating multi-billionaire, Bulma Briefs?" A reporter for some entertainment magazine had managed to corner Vegeta. She thrust a microphone, attached to a miniature tape recorder, into his face, awaiting an answer. He glared at her, through narrowed eyes, thinking about all the annoyances that he had been forced to put up with since news of their relationship had become public.

"A pain in the ass." He snapped, turning on his heel and walking away.

The milling crowds were beginning to get to him. _All these mobbing reporters!_ He thought, exasperated, _the adoring fans never would have been this disrespectful on Vegetasei!_ It was true. Rather than mobbing him with questions and snapping cameras in his face, they would have lined up, bowed, spoke only when spoken to, and treated their prince with the utmost respect! "Stupid earthlings." He muttered, plowing through the crowds without care for who he was trampling.

It _was_ a pain in the ass to date Bulma sometimes. No matter where they went, someone would eventually recognize them, and their dinner, movie, or whatever they happened to be doing at the time, would turn into a complete circus. He liked it best when they just sat alone, watching movies or television on the couch, which they didn't do very often. They hadn't really seen much of each other at all, since the shooting ended. The hustle and bustle of Capsule Corporation had reclaimed Bulma, and Vegeta had gone back to the runway, awaiting the results of his movie. Bulma had the silly idea in her head that the time they spent together should be 'special' and 'memorable' but Vegeta didn't get it. What was so special about sitting in a restaurant, eating overpriced food, whilst a million other couples surrounded them, doing the exact same thing? And then to finish the evening with a movie, where they were forced to sit and watch passively, unable to speak for fear of disturbing the others around them. He enjoyed his time with Bulma, but in his mind, there were much better ways of spending it.

The theatre grew quiet as the lights dimmed, and the screen roared to life in a brilliant flash of light. An exquisite caravan trudged through the rain, along a rutty dirt road, bouncing and bumping along. The camera panned along a lush expanse of rolling country hills, until an enormous castle came into view, surrounded by a bustling city. Slowly moving in through cobblestone streets, slums turning to markets, which gave way to grand homes and finally the palace gates.

"His majesty bids welcome to Lord Dominic Satayn and his company." A steward in royal livery bowed as the gates swung open, manned by armour clad knights. A cough from the door of a gilded carriage; a haughty looking woman, dressed to the pique of fashion, stepped out. The steward corrected his mistake. "And a most gracious welcome to the Lady Satayn." She smiled icily back at him, before taking the arm of her husband, which had not been offered. He looked away, an irritated and exasperated expression on his face, but did not shake her off.

The throne room. The King and Dominic. Barely concealed resentment, hatred, and animosity. A thin veil of polite procedures to cover the raging disgust of each with the other. The Queen, Aria, so young, so enchanting. A torrid love affair.

Yamcha watched uncomfortably as Vegeta stripped and crawled into the bed with his ex-girlfriend. His eyes narrowed as their lips met with such need and passion that people in the audience sighed and hugged themselves, as if to duplicate the sweet love that the two characters shared.

A dark forest at night. Two figures on a horse, galloped wildly through the trees, trying desperately to escape their pursuers. "Dominic!" Aria cried as the horse stumbled and fell, nearly crushing the two riders.

Vegeta remembered that scene. On the first take, he had flown headfirst into a tree. Bulma had been the only one who was not concerned. The crew had thought her heartless, until he stood up and shook them all off, with a glare of the type that only he could muster. He had been more concerned for the damn horse, with its long, spindly legs that looked so easy to break.

The King's men had caught up to them. A fight broke out. Aria tried to stop it…and she did. With a sword through her heart. Dominic found himself in the town square, a noose around his neck, charged with the murder of the Queen.

Luke. Dying. Hell. That was the favour. Luke was old and tired. Someone needed to take care of Hell for him. Dominic Satayn; the new ruler of Hell.

Goku had to pee. _Badly._ But he didn't want to miss the movie, so he sat squirming in his seat, accidentally elbowing Chi Chi every few minutes. She glared at him, her steely gaze screaming "It's your own damn fault!" He had drunk so much punch, to wash down so much food, and it had caught up to him at the worst possible time! Vegeta was on the screen, crashing around in his underground palace, peering into the mystical pool of water. He had found Aria's reincarnation and was making plans to kidnap her. Goku didn't want to miss that!

Chi Chi hissed in annoyance as he once again slammed an elbow into her arm, but Goku didn't really seem to notice, as he was too busy trying to maintain control of his bladder.

Kidnapping Aria's reincarnation. A forceful kiss and a glimpse into Dominic's madness. A tiny spark of something; some emotion. A budding relationship. A jealous boyfriend.

"Charlie no! What are you doing?" Kali smiled as she watched herself on the screen. What a performance! Vegeta was a fool to have picked Bulma over her! Oh well, his loss! He seemed possessive, and she didn't want to be tied down to one man.

"I'm saving you!" He snarled, grabbing Dominic's sword off the floor. The fallen lord lay prone on the ground, blood gushing from his abdomen. He had been shot right through. "I'll run him through on his own damn blade!" Charlie raged, pushing past his girlfriend, toward her ethereal kidnapper. He raised the sword with both hands high above his head, preparing to slam its blade straight down through Dominic's heart.

"Dominic! NO!" She shrieked, throwing herself over his fallen form, just as the sword began it's descent.

A sickening rip of steel through flesh. Charlie looked down to see his girlfriend impaled upon the sword. It had gone right through her middle, and he watched, as her eyes grew wide. She coughed up blood as she tried to speak.

"Aria! Aria no…" Dominic was panicked. "No…why would you do that? Why would you do it again? You…" he was growing weak, and he struggled to speak. "You…you weren't supposed to die for me again," he sobbed, "we were supposed to find each other and be together."

"But…" Charlie's head snapped up as she spoke. Her voice was so different…and her eyes…

"Who are you?" He screamed, wrenching the sword from her gut. "Who the fuck are you?"

"But," she continued on, ignoring everything but Dominic, "but we have found each other, my love."

Max smiled as he watched Bulma's image materialize over Kali's, the ghostly form and her solid counterpart moving and speaking in exact synchronization. It had been an exceedingly difficult scene to set up, as they had had to set a very definite pattern of movements that each actress had to follow perfectly and separately in order to cleanly edit Bulma's image onto the film of Kali.

There were two distinct voices now, Bulma's soft tones growing louder, to drown out Kali's.

"Aria…" Dominic breathed.

"We have found each other, and now we will die again, this time together. We will be together now. Forever, as it was meant to be." She smiled, pressing her face into his hand as he reached up, shakily, to wipe a tear from her eye.

Charlie watched them die, slowly, in each other's arms. He was so transfixed that he didn't notice the figure step out of the shadows, until it was right beside him.

"I helped you," the old man said, laying a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "And now I believe it's time for you to uphold your end of the bargain."

"…Luke."

"Wow, what an ending!" Vegeta heard someone say as the lights came on.

"Yeah, it just screams 'sequel'!" Someone else replied. The rest of the conversation was lost to him as they wandered away.

"Well, it looks like you guys have a hit on your hands." Yamcha said, patting Bulma on the back, and then quickly stepping away from Vegeta's warning glare. "Congratulations."

"Yeah you guys, that was great!" Chi Chi appeared at Yamcha's side, minus one Saiyan husband, who had hightailed it to the bathroom in a hurry. "Bulma, I had no idea you could act!"

"Me either!" Bulma laughed, pleased that the movie seemed to be enjoying such an enthusiastic reception.

"So what are you going to do now, Vegeta?" Goku appeared from within the crowd. "Gonna hang up your armour for stardom?"

"Pft. Don't be an idiot Kakarott." The Prince snorted. "I've proven my point."

"You mean you're not going to do anymore movies or anything?" Bulma asked, somewhat stunned. She had thought Vegeta was enjoying the attention.

"Of course not. I've delayed my ascension to Super Saiyan for long enough."

"But…but you'll be bombarded! You won't be able to go anywhere or do anything without the whole world knowing about it!"

"You humans will forget about me within a matter of weeks." Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Though this is only a testament to the idiocy and frivolity of your race." He snapped. "No intelligent race would ever dare to forget the name Vegeta!"

"Things don't work quite like that, you know." Bulma sighed in irritation. "Someone will always recognize you after you've been in the spotlight like this."

"What a mixed up race." Vegeta shook his head, and fixed Bulma with a patronizing look. "You mean to tell me that none of you can be bothered to recognize the would-be destroyer of your planet, but you'll google over me for the rest of my life because I _played pretend_ in front of a camera?"

"Yep, that's about right!"

The after party was buzzing with good cheer, excitement, and champagne. Already, the movie was a big hit with critics and the public was sure to love it too. Reporters were already beginning to pester the cast and crew about the possibility of a sequel.

People had been approaching Vegeta all night, asking him about his plans for the future, and where they could send their script offers. He was quickly growing tired of it, and beginning to worry that perhaps it would not be so easy to fade back into obscurity as he had hoped.

"Well, it looks like you're a big success, huh?" Bulma looped her arm around his, handing him a glass of champagne. "A toast," she clinked her glass against his, "to success." They both sipped silently from their glasses, lost in thought.

This was the moment that had been building for the past several months, since that fateful, windy day at Capsule Corporation. Vegeta had met her challenge. He had proven himself capable of both survival and success in her world, but had he become so comfortable in his new life that he didn't want to return to his old one? Bulma desperately wanted him to come back; she deeply missed his presence in her home, and the thought of his return had given her a much needed boost in accepting his decision to stay away until he gained his 'human' success.

"Vegeta?" She finally broke the silence. "What are you thinking?"

Vegeta took a swig of champagne, draining the delicate glass. He thought a moment before he spoke. "I'm thinking this party blows. Let's go home."

"You mean…_home_?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" He gave her a look, as if to say "Are you stupid?" and then dragged her off to collect their coats, all the while muttering about annoying, deaf women.

After several months of having their scripts returned to them in ashes, movie producers started to get the message, and slowly, Vegeta's mail began to dwindle in quantity, from hundreds of scripts a week, to seventy five, fifty, ten, one, and finally, none. He still got the occasional bit of fan mail, which he read, never answered, and kept in what he thought was a secret place, until Bulma accidentally stumbled upon it one day while cleaning. She never did tell Vegeta that she knew, for fear of wounding his pride.

As he predicted, people did begin to forget about him; after all, who wants to worship a star that never appears in public, much less does anything noteworthy. One tabloid figured out the secret of his heritage, but nobody paid much attention.

Max and Ray went on to collaborate on several more successes, though Ray never knocked on another door before listening to what was going on inside first.

Kali Delmar became quite a successful actress, but developed alcoholism and was court ordered to undergo rehab. She was last heard to be struggling with step 6.

Eikre graduated from University and found a job with Capsule Corporation's space exploration program. He and Bridget dated for a while, but broke up after she kept calling him "Eric" in bed.

Christian's image helped make thants a fashion craze.

Bruce and Caleb moved in together and nine months later, held a commitment ceremony, which Caleb's mother bawled all the way through. She has since been looking in to the adoption rights of gay couples.

Bulma got pregnant, but didn't quite know how to tell Vegeta…so she didn't. He figured it out when they were able to keep at it right through the time when her period _should_ have been there, but didn't say anything, because he didn't know how to bring it up. They both pretended to be shocked when her stomach inflated to the size of a basketball.

All in all, things ended up pretty well.

****

Mp3 of the Day: "Dr. Worm" by They Might Be Giants. It's a song about Dr. Worm…who is not a real doctor, but is a real worm. What more can I say?

So this is the end of Pseudo Ferocity…sniffle I've been working on this fic for over a year now! (mostly because of those little 3 month waits between the last few chapters…eh heh…) Anyway, I just wanted to thank you readers for giving this strange and somewhat unbelievable fic a chance! Thanks for sticking with me!

..


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